The Bedroom Conversation Series
by SparkleMouse
Summary: A series of bedroom - and maybe a bathroom and deck and other locations near a bedroom- conversations between Beckett and Castle in the first year or so of their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

a/n: I've been posting over at Livejournal so while I'm not _entirely _new to Castle fanfiction, I am new to it here. So I really hope you enjoy!

...And realizing that the one place that you feel the most _you_ is when you are lying next to her, just breathing. - Brothers & Sisters

i. June, 2012

There's something familiar, yet oddly strange about reading case files in Castle's bed.

It's her third week here (not consecutively, she does still go home every once in a while) and really, she should have been smart enough to realize that sex with Castle was bound to turn into a relationship whether she wanted it to or not (and for the record, _yes_ she did want it to, but _no_, maybe the sex wouldn't have come first. Okay, that's a lie. That was _bound _to come first after three and a half years and millions of harmless come-ons in between.)

It had started innocently enough with dinners here or there, comfort food trucks (or her new favorite, the treats truck), a movie when they had time. Nights at his bar became almost mandatory on Fridays and on several occasions they'd stay hidden in a corner booth, laughing and finishing off the other's drinks as if they'd been doing this mating dance for years (and looking back on it, she knows they were, that it was only a matter of time before _this_ happened.)

Kate was the one who made the first move weeks ago when they had left the Old Haunt, this time hours before it closed. She invited him up and he was in her apartment, undressing her, fucking her quickly and desperately against her living room wall and he had mumbled something like _finally, three years_, _I want you _or maybe it was _I love you_.

Week one had been nothing but sex; an undeniable fear that this was a one night stand (or a seven night stand), a drunken haze, a loaded mess. Castle's hands were on her whenever they had a moment alone and her skin had been branded during that time, a flush that burned through all of her whenever he brushed past her at work, stared a little too long.

The second week, she had wanted to run. He's a writer and therefore an observer and she realizes that he must have noticed that her heels were always placed neatly at the foot of the bed, no matter where they had been discarded to when they entered in a frenzy of lust. She'd find them amongst tangled clothes, one in the living room, one halfway under his bed. She never did use them though, not until morning came or a middle of the night call forced her to leave the sanctuary of his bedroom. She found sleeping with someone else wasn't as stifling as she was expecting after the shooting or maybe it was just him because he was familiar, he was _Castle_ and it somehow made sense in ways that had seemed so complicated before.

So, now she's in week three and there's still sex and _sometimes_ she thinks about getting the hell out of here, but mainly she just finds it…the same as it was _before_ but with orgasms and homemade breakfasts.

"Do you ever stop being a cop?" Castle mumbles beside her. His eyes are closed and his hair is rumpled, but his fingers prance along her bare thigh, smoothing down the goosebumps he leaves in his wake. "You need a twelve step program. Step one, put down the files."

Kate's lips lift in a smile. "And what's step two?"

"Sex with the man who bases his most popular character on you. I need inspiration."

"I can't do my work, but we can do yours?"

He looks so serious when his eyes open staring up at her like he's arguing a case or something even remotely important. "Beckett, my work includes us having sex. Your work includes us getting up at four in the morning to look at dead bodies, which yes, are sometimes awesome and interesting, but I'm _pretty_ sure mine trumps yours."

Okay, he does have a point there.

"I'm almost done. Did you read this?"

"The print out of the blog?" Castle nods. "While you were washing up. You think she did it, don't you?"

His fingers have stopped their trail over her body, his arm now loosely draped around her waist. She leans back against him, feels the brush of his chest against the thin t-shirt of his she's wearing. "I think that Annabelle Leary is an angry woman who found out her husband was cheating and broadcast it online for the entire world to read. It suddenly goes viral to media outlets and the mistress ends up dead. Is it a crime of opportunity, a chance to get revenge and have the heat on someone like Annabelle? Or is it a genius move to assume that as the wife, as the woman who started the blog, no one would suspect her because it's too obvious and therefore she killed her."

"I don't think Annabelle did it."

"Why?"

"Because there was no passion in the murder. It was a single GSW to the head. Annabelle was pissed off, she was upset, but if she was going to murder her husband's mistress there would have been more meaning behind it. Single shot to the heart. Even multiple stabbings in the heat of the moment. This was cold. In my opinion, a woman didn't do this."

"I forget how good you are at this sometimes."

"Well, you're quite good at helping me with _my_ job," he responds. He pulls her hair to the side and his lips are against her ear, hot breath that sends chills down her spine. "You okay?"

She also forgets how well he knows her sometimes, like he's written her since the very beginning. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire." Castle cups his hand between her legs and she gasps, her hips involuntary jerking forward. "Oh wait; you're not wearing any pants."

"I get it, Castle. You want to have sex. Your subtlety could use some work."

"I was subtle for three years." She raises an eyebrow at him. "I was! It's not like I ever asked you to have sex with me."

"No, you just wrote about it."

"I had to get my jollies somewhere. Okay, that came out way dirtier than I meant it to." She laughs, but he's still watching her, trying to read her mind. "Kate, if you want to go home tonight, you can. As much as I'd like to, I'm not holding you hostage here."

"How generous of you."

"You sleep with a gun. Odds are in my favor if I let you go."

Kate tilts her head so she's looking at him, and there's a softness to his eyes, an understanding amongst his playful nature. "I'm not good at this, Castle, this whole relationship thing. I've been in them, but this is…different."

"If you're trying to find an out for more than tonight-"

"I'm not. I want to be in this with you, but," she gestures to the file, the information inside, "there are so many _complications_ that we've never discussed, not really. If we're going to do this, then we need to get some things out of the way first."

Castle nods slowly, sliding down so he's at eye level with her. "This is new; for both of us. But before you ask me whatever it is you want to know, you need to understand that whatever this is between us, Kate, is it for me. You're it for me."

"You can't know that. You've had two previous marriages-"

"That didn't work because they were the wrong women."

She swallows the lump in her throat, and she sort of wants to hit him, because really? Does he _really_ think she's ready to hear that she's basically his be all end all?

"Castle, I'm not-"

"I know," he answers quietly. "I just wanted you to remember that. What do you want to know?"

She looks at him sheepishly, "On the topic of your marriages?"

He runs his short nails down her arm, traces the tan line where her father's watch usually resides. "Meredith and I never should have gotten married. We were young, we had Alexis on the way and we did what we thought was best. She cheated on me a year after Alexis was born and if I'm being honest, I was relieved. It gave me a reason to end it without it being my fault."

"Did you ever regret it?"

"The breakup or the marriage?"

"Either."

"Not really, no. At the time it was the right thing for Alexis and truthfully, I'm almost grateful to Meredith for being the one to end it. Not in that way, but I would have stayed a lot longer than I should have."

"And Gina?"

"Gina and I made an incredible couple on paper. She's my publisher, I'm her star writer. Dating me, marrying me, it gave her better clients. Patterson went to her, Connelly, Cannell, Lehane. She cornered the market on mystery writers."

"And what did she do for you?"

"She cleaned up my act. I was partying when Alexis was with my mother or with friends. I was getting into trouble and Black Pawn was worried it would damage my book sales and therefore their profit. They stuck Gina on me and she was a bat out of hell. She'd follow me everywhere and when she saw it start to go downhill, she'd reel me back in. It worked between us for a while. Until it didn't. Bottom line is, I convinced myself I loved her until I eventually started to." She sees it in his eyes, this look that he gets now that screams out _But I love you more, trust me, please._ "A few years ago, when we got back together, it was…familiar. I needed that."

"Because of me?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"I think there are a lot of things that we've kept hidden and it almost destroyed us. So yes, I really want to know."

"I hated seeing you with Demming."

It's blunt, direct and she doesn't know why she's so startled when she had asked for his honestly.

"It felt like it did when Kyra left, and that scared the shit out of me, Kate. Gina was a solution to feelings I wasn't ready to face. When did you break up with Demming? When I came back, he was already gone."

She almost has to laugh at the irony. "About thirty minutes before you left with Gina."

"What?"

The surprise is written all over his face, the regret, the unspoken promise of what could have been almost two years ago. There's a trajectory to them, a map of points that brought them here and she thinks about it sometimes, about how it would be for him if she had been shot a year into their relationship, about the secrets he had hidden, the lies they'd told.

"I was going to tell you I wanted to come with you to the Hamptons, that I was willing to give it a shot when Gina showed up. It was about four weeks into summer when I stopped waiting for the phone to ring."

"Three weeks for me." Her eyebrow quirks. "After you'd been shot."

"Oh."

"I told you mine, now you tell me yours."

She's tangled between his legs, limbs intertwined and she closes her eyes listening to the night. It's Manhattan and it's never fully silent, but it's a peaceful, familiar sound that lulls her into a state of calmness.

"Anyone in particular?"

"I don't know," Castle teases, "is this when you tell me your number?"

"Do you want their resumes too so you know who to ask about?'

"If you have it handy."

Kate barks out a laugh, eyes opening. "I left it in my apartment. Sorry."

"How did you meet Josh?"

"What difference does it make now?"

"You wanted to have this conversation."

She did, didn't she? _Shit. _

"I had a day off one weekend and I found myself exploring parts of the city that I used to love as a teenager. So much of the area had changed but this little café I used to love was still there. I started to spend a lot of time there when I could and I'd always see Josh. One day he approached me and we talked."

"And then you started to date him."

"No, not quite."

Castle lifts an eyebrow. "Was I keeping you busy, Beckett? Didn't let you go play with the boys?"

"You were in the Hamptons."

It's a bomb that detonates between them, leaving them alone in nothing but silence.

Kate takes his hand, squeezes it but continues like he's asked of her. "He was interesting; we had a lot in common. I kept going and he kept showing up so we'd sit together and talk. When he asked me out, I declined at first. Said I was too busy with work."

"What made you eventually say yes?"

"It doesn't matter, Castle. Who else do you want to know about?"

"Kate, come on."

She steels herself; she was the one who brought this up (which is ridiculous if she thinks about it because out of the two of them, he's the talker.) "You came back and you were still with Gina. I wasn't...I didn't expect that. I kept figuring that when I saw you again you'd be single and we could give it a shot." She shrugs a shoulder, trying for indifference. "When I realized you weren't, I called Josh. We went out and I liked him. I liked that he was as busy as I was. There was no pressure and I needed that. But it just...it wasn't enough." She steeples her fingers, thumbs pressing down on her pointer fingers. "That night we were in Los Angeles I came out of my room as you were going into yours."

"I didn't know that."

"I never told you."

"Why?"

"It wasn't relevant-"

"I mean why did you come out?"

"The things you said to me when we were sitting there, Castle, how you looked at me. I knew it wasn't fair to Josh just like it wasn't fair to Tom to be with them when I had feelings for you."

"If I had known-"

"Then what? We would have started something a year ago? Aren't you the one who believes in fate and magic and all things having a purpose?"

"You make me sound like I think I'm the Messiah."

She grins. "Don't you?"

He taps her nose with his finger, teasing, and she scrunches it.

"Royce. Did you love him?"

"Yes."

"You have to do better than that. I gave details on Gina and Meredith."

She hates him (loves him.)

"He was the first person after my mother died who made me feel like I was whole, like I wasn't missing out on the world, like I could _be_ something. Losing my mom, Castle, was like losing every piece of myself that made sense. Royce made me feel human again and I loved him for that, for believing in me." She brushes her fingers through his hair, feels the way his breath hitches.

"I believed in you."

There's a change in him; she sees it in the way his eyes dim and it all comes barreling back to her. The three months alone without him, the awkward ways in which they tried to get back on track for almost an entire year. Despite their relationship now and his (sometimes not so) quiet declarations of love, she sees the anger sometimes, this flame that burns and fizzles.

"I couldn't…I didn't know how to be around anyone then. We both made mistakes this past year. We both fucked up."

His fingers are on her scar, tracing the ridged curves, the lines that mar her skin. "I imagined you with Josh that entire summer. Every time the phone rang and it wasn't you. Every time I signed one of those books wondering what the hell I got myself into. You're not the only one in this, Kate. You're not the only one who's been hurt."

"I never said I was. I know I hurt you. But I'm here. I might not be able to…say the things you want me to yet but I'm not leaving either." She clasps her hand between his, brushing her scar beneath nimble fingers. "That day on the swings, why did you forgive me?"

"Because you were trying," he answers simply. "And because I missed you. I was still mad for months after that but having you in my life was better than not."

"And now? Have you forgiven me?"

"We wouldn't be here if I hadn't. Have you forgiven me? About your mother?"

She knew it was bound to come up in the wake of all this honesty. Weeks ago, before the food trucks, before nights at the Old Haunt she never believed she could absolve him. There had been too many lies, too many obstacles. He knew how to break her like no one else and yet she still found herself missing him during those days apart like he was a piece of her, filling in the spaces left empty by her mother. Kate rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, their hands coming undone.

"I've spent so much of the last twelve years living in the past. I don't want to do it anymore. I wish you had told me what you were doing, but I understand you were protecting me. You ever lie to me like that again though, I'll kill you."

"Remember when our foreplay was just you aggravated with me?"

"That wasn't foreplay. I was actually aggravated."

"Oh, Beckett. Who are you trying to kid? It was all foreplay."

She tilts her head to face him. "Are we okay?"

"Haven't you learned by now we'll always be okay?"

"Who knew you were such a sap."

"Not a sap, a writer. Perfect lines are my thing."

"Hm, is that right?"

Kate rolls over until she's straddling him. Castle's hands grip her waist and she's bending down, nipping at his lips. "Write me one right now."

"Do you know what a turn-on it is that you love my work?"

"Don't get carried away. I like a lot of people's work."

His hands tighten in her hair and she bites back a moan when he jerks his hips, pushing inside of her. "It had taken an entire night, but it was all out in the open; the former loves, the now regrettable anger. Rick stared up at Kate, fingers tangled beneath her dark locks, the moonlight bathing her naked body in silhouette. Nothing else in their past mattered, not when this was their future."

"I was expecting you to use Nikki and Rook," she whispers, but her eyes slip closed and she's arching her back, aching for more of him, for all of him.

"Didn't think I had to anymore."

She shatters around him minutes after that, tangled between his legs, eyes closing in exhaustion.

"You going to move your shoes?" he mutters against her hair and she smiles.

"Not tonight."

For the first time in three weeks, she doesn't think about running.


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: Thank you so much for everyone who read, reviewed, added me as an alert, etc. You're awesome and I'm flattered. To the person who told me about the grilled cheese truck I changed it (NY should get it though. It's _amazing._) This chapter does include some sexy times just as a warning. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's really just to showcase random bedroom conversations (and how relationships progress and grow.) Right, so hope you like!

ii. August, 2012

He doesn't tell her he loves her anymore.

It's not that he doesn't. Truthfully, he loves her more than he did the first time he told her, the second time, the third. It was on the fourth time when he had muttered something akin to that in her ear just as she was falling asleep that he had heard the almost silent breath, an indication that she wasn't ready, that if he wants her here, if he wants her forever, he can't push.

So, he's stopped.

He bites back the words when he wants to say them, channels it into long hours of writing (he still loves the precinct but feels less of an urge to be there at all hours when he no longer needs excuses to spend time with her.) It was after a spontaneous car ride in his Ferrari up to the Hamptons for a long weekend - complete with hours spent in bed, moonlit walks (that she had rolled her eyes at because it was cliché and ridiculous but he knew she loved it all the same) and sex in a hot tub (_Come on_, he had whined, _it's summer. That's what people in the Hamptons do in summer)_ – that he snuck away to write Nikki's first _I love you_ to Rook.

It was wishful thinking for the moment but he sees it in her eyes when she looks at him, teases him. She's trying and he can give her that, he _will _give her that for however long she needs.

Castle steps out of her bathroom, feet still wet from their shower, and stops in his tracks. She's laying on her bed, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, head on the opposite end of where she sleeps. He's mesmerized by her innocence, all young and free of makeup like she doesn't have a care in the world (and he wonders for a split second if he's the reason why.)

Kate looks up and smiles. "You're staring."

"I'm trying to figure out why you're laying the wrong way in bed. Is this another weird Kate Beckett apartment gem that I don't understand like you not owning a TV?"

"I work long hours, Castle," she responds, rolling her eyes. "When I'm home I like to take a hot bath, have a glass of wine, read a good book. I thought you'd appreciate a woman who prefers a novel to mindless television."

"Your knowledge of fine literature – and yes, I am counting my own – is incredibly sexy. But it's a TV, Beckett! Don't you have at least one guilty pleasure show that you have to watch?"

"Guess you'll never know."

Castle climbs onto the bed beside her, resting his head next to hers. "Give this relationship long enough and I'll find out. Now why are you laying the wrong way?"

"I've done it since I was a kid. I hated getting up in the morning. My mom would have to come in at least six times before I'd actually wake up. After I'd shower, she and my dad would be getting ready for work and I'd lie back down. I liked to believe that because my head wasn't on the pillows I wasn't actually doing anything wrong."

"Let me guess. Your mom didn't buy it."

Kate laughs and he loves that look she gets when she thinks about her mother, these lines around her eyes that tell so much of her past in a single glance. "Who do you think I inherited my hate of early mornings from? My dad is up at five a.m. every day. The first time he took my mom out to our cabin upstate, he tried to get her to go fishing with him before dawn. She almost ended things with him right then and there."

"What else don't I know about your childhood?"

"So much, Castle. So very, very much."

He pulls her closer and he's inhaling the scent of cherries (which he's now discovered is from her lotion), lips pressed against her neck. She shivers as his fingers dip beneath her robe, pressing into each ridge on her spine.

"Katherine Beckett at six. Go."

He watches as she considers it for a moment, her eyes filling with memories. "I wanted a dog so badly but my parents wouldn't get me one. I was too young to walk it myself and they were busy with work and didn't want to take care of an animal. God, I was so mad, Castle." She laughs, ducking her head. "And completely defiant. I remember sulking in my room for hours. I refused to eat. My mom left a tray outside my room with a note that said _If we had a dog, this food would be gone already. Think about that the next time you run to your room without dinner because you're upset about something." _

"I assume you didn't give up your quest that easily?"

"Of course not. My best friend at the time had a dachshund and after school one day I convinced her to let me take him. We snuck Wiener into my backpack-"

"Wait, I'm sorry. His name was Wiener?"

"It was a dachshund! What else would you name it?"

"Hotdog? Tootsie Roll? Geoffrey?"

"Geoffrey? Who names their dog Geoffrey?"

"Who names their dog Wiener when they're six?"

"Are you going to let me finish?"

He considers making a dirty joke, something inappropriate that would earn him a slap or a kick or whatever else Beckett has in mind (not sex if he were to do that) so he bites the inside of his mouth, thinks of normal words.

"Sorry. Tell me all about Wiener."

(Okay, maybe a little dirty.)

He wiggles his eyebrows at her and then her hand slaps his bare chest, lips lifting in a smile.

"Like I was saying," she chides, "we snuck him into my backpack. I left all my books at Rachel's and I don't know how I managed it - minor miracle, really - but I got him home without him barking. I figured that if I could take care of him then my parents could no longer deny me a dog."

"This sounds like a _terrible _idea."

"Beyond terrible. I hid Wiener in my closet while we ate dinner that night and he ended up finding a chocolate bar in this little stash I kept hidden in a shoe box-"

"Little Beckett hoarded food?" He shakes his head with a grin. "I'm learning so much!"

"Is all of this going to end up in the next Heat novel?"

"Girlfriend research, not writer's research. Tell me about your hoarding."

"I didn't _hoard _it, per se. I just kept it there in case I wanted chocolate. Sometimes I'd forget about it-"

"Which is hoarding. What six year old hides candy?"

"Do you want to hear the rest of the Wiener story or not?"

Castle laughs again and she narrows her eyes at him. "It's funny! You must have been so cute running around an apartment screaming _Wiener, Wiener, Wiener_!"

"Seriously, are you nine?"

"If I was this thing we're doing would be _very_ inappropriate." He sees her hand reaching out to hit him again and he grabs, locks his fingers between hers. "Okay. Tell me about the dog. Did you death by chocolate a dachshund?"

"I think we should break up," Kate jokes, but she's grinning and she's moving closer to him, to his warmth, and it's in moments like these that he falls in love all over again. "And no I didn't, thank you very much. The result wasn't pretty though. We needed a cleaning crew for my closet that forced me to sleep in my parents' bedroom for a week, not to mention a ridiculous vet bill that cost me my ten dollar allowance basically forever. Needless to say, I stopped asking for a dog after that."

"It's a miracle Royal made it out of here alive."

"From what I've heard, there have been times that you've forgotten to feed Alexis in the past."

"Is that what she said? Because I'll have you know that I always fed her! I mean, who doesn't love pizza for breakfast and pancakes for dinner? My daughter has a delightfully refined pallet for the finest things in life."

"Is pizza for breakfast considered one of the finer things in life?"

Castle pouts. "I never thought you'd be a mean girlfriend."

The laugh that comes out of her is loud, sexy. She slides a leg between his and kisses him, her tongue running along his bottom lip with slow, methodical ease. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "But you make it so easy sometimes."

"Mean," he growls. "What happened to your best friend back then? Rachel, right?"

Kate brushes her fingers over his cheek and rests her head back on the blanket. "The last I heard she was a chef in Sarasota. We weren't really friends after middle school."

"Why?"

"No reason. Our parents were close when we were kids so we spent a lot of time together. As we got older we found different interests. She came to my mother's funeral, but I haven't seen her since."

"And fourteen-year-old Beckett?"

"I'm not joking, Castle. If Wiener ends up in your next novel I'll hurt you."

"You threaten me a lot."

"You deserve it."

Castle unlocks their fingers. He runs a hand through her damp hair, the waves unraveling with his touch. "Your favorite comfort show is _Temptation Lane_. You take your coffee with two pumps of sugar free vanilla. You wear long, colorful shirts to bed which you wouldn't assume are sexy but are. Your mom cooked amazing breakfasts on Sunday mornings."

She smiles. "All correct. And?"

"And I want to know more. Not for Nikki Heat but because I'm always somehow surprised by you and it never fails to amaze me."

"Don't let this go to your head, but you really do have a way with words." He can't help it. He smirks and then she's rolling her eyes and she does that a lot (and really only with him which should tell him something.) "Oh nevermind! I knew you wouldn't take the compliment without gloating."

"Not saying anything. Fourteen."

She gives in and he loves that about her; how she's all calm and composed and annoyed at times but still humors him because she actually _wants_ this. "It wasn't pretty. When I was eleven I got a perm. It was the late 80s and my friend's older sister showed us _Flashdance _on VHS because she was obsessed with it. I basically wanted to be Jennifer Beals after I saw it_._"

Castle lowers the shoulders of her robe, brushing his fingers lightly over her skin. She shivers and then his mouth is brushing the area, whispering secrets against her. "I'm going to buy you a cutoff sweatshirt," he mumbles. "You have sexier shoulders than her."

"Oh yeah?" Kate's eyes flutter closed. "Have you spent a lot of time examining Jennifer Beals shoulders in real life?"

"Met her once. She doesn't hold a candle to you."

"Good. I won't worry about you leaving me for her then," she teases.

"Tell me more about your perm."

"Careful, Castle. I know your mother. I also know her well enough to know she wouldn't hesitate pulling out old photos where I'm sure she dressed you up in some ridiculous outfit."

"She did," he cringes. "Do you have any idea what it's like growing up with an actress?" Castle holds up his hands in surrender. "No need to play dirty, Beckett. Unless…"

"Isn't that why we just showered?"

"Didn't work. I still feel dirty." He licks a trail down her neck, between her breasts. "You're dirty too."

"Later," Kate mutters. "The summer before high school I was determined to get rid of my perm. People still had them, it looked good on some, but I hated it. It didn't take much convincing to get my mom on board. I got a new wardrobe, straightened my hair and learned how to use makeup. I was a teen movie success story in the making."

"What happened when you got to high school?"

"I met Maddie. You should have seen us, Castle. We used to get into so much trouble together. She was one of those friends that you always dream of having. Someone to get into trouble with, someone to spill all your secrets to. Senior year we had a falling out over a guy and it was years before I stopped thinking about her and our friendship. The job has taken so much from me but I'm so grateful it brought Maddie back into my life." She's quiet for a moment and he knows she's thinking, running through the years in her head. "I'm grateful it brought me you."

In moments like this, he knows this is her version of saying _I love you._

"I'm going to hold this over your head," Castle says, undoing the knot on her robe.

He's touching her with skilled fingers, roaming her body, continuing his discovery in ways he's dreamed of for years. He learned a lot about her in those first few weeks of their relationship; he's committed to memory the way her body shatters beneath him, above him, because of him. He had watched her that first time as her eyes fluttered seconds before she came (his writer's mind imagines it's because she wants to capture the world around her as it breaks apart in the best possible way.) She hums low in her throat when he strokes her skin and slides a hand between her legs like he's about to do now.

"Don't I get to do boyfriend research?" she whispers but her eyes are already closed, waiting.

She's wet when he slides a finger inside of her, and he loves how much she wants him, how her body reacts to each stroke like they've been doing this forever.

"I'm not that interesting."

Kate laughs, hoarse. "That might be the first time you ever willingly turned down talking about yourself." Her hips rise slightly off the bed and she grips the sheets as he continues to work her, chanting his name quietly.

"I'm growing." Her eyes flutter open and she grins at his obvious erection through the towel. "Too easy a joke, right?"

"Way too easy." He presses the palm of his hand over her clit and her hips jerk against him. "Castle," she breathes. He's staring at her when her eyes open and then he's kissing her and it's fierce, desperate. She cries out into his mouth when she comes around his fingers, her head falling onto his shoulder. Her breathing is labored, but he can feel her smile against his shoulder, the beat of her heart slowly returning to normal.

Kate undoes the towel around his waist and rubs a finger over the tip of his cock. He groans and she merely smiles again. There's a challenge in her eyes, maybe some sort of payback.

"Rick Castle, eight-years-old. Go."


	3. Chapter 3

iii. October, 2012

He's about as quiet as a bull in a china shop.

She sits in the steaming bath, surrounded by bubbles and tea light candles, eyes closed as she listens to him make his way through her apartment. Her building is old and the floors creak and she's noticed over time that even when he tries to be quiet, he never quite manages to do so. He's going through the kitchen first; the fridge opens and closes and then he's in the living room, through the open door of her bedroom. He puts something down (knowing him it's some sort of souvenir from the city of angels) and then the bathroom door slowly inches open. She can tell he's watching her (she can _always_ tell) and there's no doubt or self-awareness like she would have expected from being on display. Instead, she tilts her head toward him, opening her eyes.

"Hey," she says.

Castle's lips stretch into a smile. He's been gone for four days – two of which she's been working nonstop – and yet she's missed him more than she assumed she would. It was in quiet late night moments that it hit her: the chill of her sheets on his side of the bed, the lack of conversation as she was falling asleep at night. She's noticed his lack of presence at work, but it's a different, personal kind of yearning that she's really only experienced in the memories of her mother (and the fact that she can even put them into the same category scares the shit out of her.)

"Hi. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Kate lifts the half filled glass of wine on the table beside her, taking a sip. "You're not exactly quiet, Castle."

He walks into the room and bends down to kiss her softly. He licks his lips and tastes the hint of black cherries and spice from her cabernet. The flickering from the candles cast shadows over his face and tonight – in the quiet of her apartment – he's all soft angles and muted exhaustion. He sits on the floor in front of the tub, his shoulder pressed against the mouth of the white porcelain.

"You live in a pre-war apartment building! A ninja couldn't even be quiet on these floors!"

She returns his smile, spinning the glass carefully in her hand. "How was LA?"

Castle grunts, taking the wine from her. "I'll put it this way. It's no surprise that Meredith is in her element there." He looks down into the liquid filled with shadows, lights reflecting off the crimson. "Speaking of my first ex-wife, am I supposed to tell you I had dinner with her last night?"

"Should I be jealous?"

"Of Meredith?" He barks out a laugh and shakes his head. "No. No, never of Meredith. Or anyone else for that matter." He sips the wine, and his fingers skim the top of the bath. The water ripples, bubbles evaporate. "You okay that I went to dinner with her?"

"You don't need my permission. She's Alexis' mother. There's actually something oddly comforting about you having an amicable relationship with both of your ex-wives."

He lifts an eyebrow. "Comforting?"

"I'm a homicide detective. Majority of the time someone is murdered a spouse or scorned lover is involved. I'm just saying if you ever get murdered, I'm not entirely convinced it would be either one of them."

"First of all, I don't like that you're discussing my potential murder so casually."

She loves that look of righteous indignation on his face, like he doesn't have the faintest idea why someone might _maybe _want to kill him. (She figures now is not the time to tell him that she thought of justifiable homicide for the first four months of their working relationship.)

"What's second of all?"

"You'd still question them, right? You can't underestimate Gina. She might seem like she's got it all together but she can be a little crazy sometimes. There was this one time in Cabo when-" He stops, bites on his lip. "Right. As my girlfriend you don't want to hear about this."

"Castle, I didn't want to hear about it _before_ I was your girlfriend, either." She takes her wine back. There's a water smudge on the lip of the glass and she rubs it with her finger. "Go ahead," she gestures with a wave of the hand. "I'm listening."

He looks at her, surprised. "You want to hear about Cabo?"

"I meant about how I should investigate your ex-wife if you're murdered."

"Wives," Castle corrects. "Gina would get Meredith in on it and they'd do it together! They can't stand each other, but Gina would need an easy scapegoat and Meredith would do whatever's necessary to play Gina in the Lifetime movie they're inevitably going to make. I'd end up being played by some no name actor who'll try to come onto you to," he lifts his fingers in air quotes "_get into character. _Don't do it, Beckett. Don't sleep with the chiseled soap opera version of me."

Kate rolls her eyes, but the smile remains because he's ridiculous and wordy and she should probably mention his little kiss with Natalie Rhodes while _she _was getting into character, but decides against it. "What makes you think a soap star would play you?"

"It's a known fact that no one is as ruggedly handsome as soap stars."

"A known fact with whom, Castle?"

He thinks about it for a moment. "My mother?"

Kate lets out a laugh. "On the topic of ruggedly handsome men and movies, how were the Nikki Heat meetings?"

"A nightmare. The new screenwriter is a hack and he's hellbent on calling the second movie _Heat Rises_."

"What about _Naked Heat_?"

"Thank you! They think it's too provocative a title so they've decided to combine books two and three. It's insulting! Recently they've had every major studio in a bidding war over some sort of literary porn and I get condensed from two sequels to one? I've been number one on the _New York Times_ best seller list for more years than this screenwriter has been born!"

"Your life is so hard."

"You're mocking me. I get it."

"I'm not mocking you, but come on, Rick. These aren't normal people problems. So, they turn two books into one movie. What about _Frozen Heat? _Or the one you're working on now? You'll have more films down the line."

"It's not that." Castle takes the wine she's offering, finishing off the rest of the glass. "Is there more in the kitchen or is the bottle done?"

"On the counter."

"I'll be right back."

Kate turns the knob for her bath, filling the tub with a little more hot water. Her toes tip into the mouth of the faucet, shooting a spray off into the distant. When it starts to fill to the rim, she turns it off. She slides down, her hair soaking in a pool around her face, and she inhales the scent of lilacs from the disintegrating bubbles as well as the soft lingering smell of Castle's cologne.

"I like this cabernet," he says, sitting back down on the floor.

There's still only one glass in his hand, but he's brought the bottle with him. There's an intimacy to it that reminds her of Nikki Heat, of Jameson Rook. She wonders sometimes if he tries to make them like his characters or if all along he knew who they had the potential to be before they even began.

The taste of cherries settles onto her lips. "I do too. Our first date, right?"

"At that little bistro in the village. We should go back."

Castle rests his head back and she runs her fingers through his hair. He sighs, closing his eyes, and she wishes he'd get in here with her. She's almost forgotten the feel of his body around her (which is utterly ridiculous because it's been four days, not four years and is this what deeply committed relationships are like because if so, she's pretty much screwed?)

Her fingers continue their trek through the short strands. "Okay, why does it bother you about the movie?"

"Doesn't matter," he murmurs.

"Castle, come on."

He opens his eyes and he's staring up at her, his eyes a dark blue. "I'm not sure you're ready to hear it."

"Try me."

"_Heat Wave _was this perfect mix of an action movie and love story. It's like _The Hunger Games _but without a reaping or the capitol running our lives or-"

Kate holds up a hand. "Okay, so not at all like _The Hunger Games."_

"Hey, Nikki and Katniss have a lot of similarities!"

"Castle. Focus."

"Right. All I mean in the comparison is that both stories have something for everyone. There's action, murder, complicated relationships whether it be with family or friends but overall, the _Heat_ series - much like _The Hunger Games -_ is a love story. It's...It shouldn't be cut short because of time constraints or thrown together because the studio thinks that's the more logical decision. There's a specific path Nikki and Rook take and it shouldn't be forced to progress before it's ready."

Kate hears it in his tone then, the worry, the fear that one movie will lose the intricate path of what he considers their own love story. She slides her hand out of his hair and reaches for his on the edge of the tub, her fingers sliding between the crevices of his.

She rubs her thumb over his knuckle, her voice soft when she says, "Isn't that why Paula got you a producing credit for this one? To fight decisions like this?"

"To supervise. I can't change what the studio wants."

"Then supervise. Read the outline when it's available. Read the script. Make sure they tell Nikki and Rook's story how you think it should be told."

Castle laughs. "There's nothing screenwriters love more than novelists coming in to tell them how to do their job."

"You've been doing that to me for years."

"Come on, Beckett. We both know you don't _need_ or _let _anyone tell you how to do your job. I just help out with my brilliant insights and rapier wit."

"Right. Brilliant insights."

"And rapier wit."

"Of course." She's almost forgotten about the wine on the side table and she swirls it around in the glass before taking a drink. The bath is starting to cool, her skin is starting to wrinkle, the candles start to flame out but she doesn't move; not when he's tracing patterns on the inside of her palm, when his soft, quiet breathing lulls her into a state of contentment. "Oh, I took your daughter to dinner last night."

He looks at her with surprise. "You took Alexis out?"

"Do you have another daughter I don't know about?" She watches his face, and she shakes her head. "Please tell me you don't have a surprise child out there."

"Well, if it was a surprise, then I wouldn't know about it either!"

"Castle-"

"Women have it easier," he mumbles. "No one is going to ever show up with your surprise child. I think you'd pretty much know if you popped one out. So, Alexis. You took her out?"

There's nothing she can do but roll her eyes at him. Again. "She was still down in the morgue at nine. I figured someone needed to feed her."

"Ever since she got to Columbia she's too cool for her dear old dad. How's she doing?"

"She's so smart, Castle. I've always known that but to have a conversation with her-"

"It's like talking to a forty-year-old. I know. She's always been like that. When she was seven, her best friend's father died. She had known Steven since she was less than a year old, it was like losing her second father, but she somehow handled it with grace and an understanding way beyond her years. I sometimes have no idea how Meredith and I could have produced someone so smart."

She loves the look he gets when he talks about his daughter, this pride that radiates off of him like nothing else can. It was the first time that he mentioned Alexis that she saw him as someone other than the man he portrayed to the world. He wasn't a best selling author, a wild, out of control party boy. He was doting and loving, without the cloak of conceit or fame. Over the years, it's who she's fallen in love with.

She squeezes his hand. "If our child is even half as amazing as her, I'll consider myself lucky."

Oh god, oh god, oh god. She didn't-

She closes her eyes, bites on her lip. She can feel the rush of heat coursing through her body, the embarrassment that's evident on her cheeks. She can just pass it off as the bath but it's Castle and _shit_. She can't tell him she loves him yet, but she can tell him she wants his kids? Kid. Singular. Not plural.

Shit.

"I mean-"

He's gloating, and she hates him a little bit right now. "Beckett, did you just-"

"No."

"You did, you just-"

"Castle." Kate's voice is stern and she shakes her head. "I...I meant my future child, if I were ever to have one. I'd be lucky if he or she were like Alexis."

"You know it doesn't actually bother me that you said it, right?" He pours more wine into the glass. The liquid splashes along the side and a drop rolls over the edge. Castle catches it with his finger, licking it off, but instead of taking a drink he hands it to her. "You need this more than I do right now."

"Rick-"

"I'm not pushing you, Kate. I'm not saying we should have kids tomorrow. Honestly, it's just nice to know you think about it."

She downs half the glass and she's surprised at the smile that flits across her lips. "How long is it going to take for you to drop this?"

"We'd make pretty cute kids, you know. A lot of hair." She glares at him. "And I can only hope my facial expressions, although yours are adorable when you don't want to kill me. Like you do right now."

"I guess we're not dropping it yet?"

"I'll let it go, but I do have one request."

"Do I even want to know?"

Castle lifts his shoulder in a shrug. "Probably not. I want to name our first kid. Meredith chose Alexis' name."

She's going to kill him. "Our first kid? We're having multiple?"

"If you want."

She wants to go back thirteen years to before her mom was murdered; she wants to be able to tell him how she feels without the fear of the world crashing down around her. And maybe, somewhere deep down (or not that deep, apparently) she wants this fairytale with him that she imagined existed before her world revolved around alleyways and murders and a life that could have been.

The wine settles in her stomach and she breathes. "Why did Meredith choose the name Alexis?"

Castle groans. "She was obsessed with Joan Collins' character on _Dynasty_. She did a multi episode guest arc on it and wanted to _be _Alexis Carrington. The next best thing was naming our daughter after her even though the show ended _four_ years before Alexis was born."

"You agreed to that?"

"I was young. Naming her was the least of my concerns at the time. At least I dissuaded Meredith from naming her Alexis Colby Castle. Luckily, I don't have to worry about that with you. Since you don't own a TV."

"Thought we were done discussing this?"

"The fact that you don't own a TV? Or the fact that you want my children?"

She splashes water at him, releasing her fingers. "Shut up. Can you hand me my towel?"

Castle stands, reaching for the soft white cotton. He holds it open for her as she steps out of the bath, dripping with water. He rakes his eyes over her and every once in a while when he looks at her like that, she remembers the moments between them like she's watching them come alive on the big screen (in a way _Heat Wave _couldn't quite portray.) She sees them on that first day, the way he read her as if he'd known her forever, the way he smiled at her and told her she looked good months after he had left her for the Hamptons. For as long as she can remember, he's stared at her like this, like she's everything, like she's as extraordinary as he likes to believe.

Kate wraps the towel around her and steps into his arms. She feels small nestled against his body, and when his lips graze her forehead she sighs in content. He's bigger than he was when she first met him, like he's bulked up to protect her, be her partner when she had no one else. She bends her head until it's pressed against his shoulder, and she's breathing him in, this mixture of soap and cologne and the slightest hint of plane. The scar over her heart aches (and she really doesn't feel like going over the emotional versus physical reasons of why at the moment.)

"Sorry, I'm wet," she murmurs against his shirt.

"Is it because I've been gone for four days and you've missed me?"

She sees his hand moving lower to the hem of the towel and she swats him away. "Quatrain."

Castle laughs, muffled against her hair. "You know Nikki screamed that _during _sex, right? Not to stop it? One day I will make that word a double entendre! Just wait, it's going to come when you least expect it. Hey, there's one!"

"You bring such stimulating conversations into my life, Castle."

"It's the writer in me." He runs his fingers through her hair. "I have to head home. I need a change of clothes and someone should probably check on my mother. She's been alone for a few days. I'm terrified to see what the loft looks like."

She smiles against him, feels the constant, rhythmic patter of his heart. "Stay here for one more minute, okay?"

Castle's arms tighten around her. "Okay."


	4. Chapter 4

a/n: For some reason this chapter was a _huge_ pain in the butt to write (I hate when they don't cooperate) so I hope this remains up to par! And thank you for the wonderful comments :-)

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><p>iv. December, 2012<p>

Her skin is like silk beneath his lips, mouth branded to her neck as he tastes her with the flick of his tongue.

He's bored. Their case had ended earlier than either of them expected and after dinner at The Old Haunt (he had offered something fancier, but Kate had rolled her eyes, told him the bar was fine) they had gone back to her place. He figured sex was in order because it had been nearly a week (_No, Castle. We're not having sex in the break room or my car,_ she had admonished when he asked_)_ but tonight she'd merely crawled into bed with a book, leaving him restless. He considers writing but Nikki's case is giving him a hard time, she and Rook are fighting and he doesn't want to deal with that. Not when Kate is beside him, hair pulled into a side braid, looking happy, settled.

He doesn't notice it anymore; her need to run. She's comfortable with him and there's pride in that, like wishful thinking and four novels have somehow proved to her that he's going to stay. She still hides inside her subtext sometimes. He notices her struggle, changes the subject to ease her nerves because she'll get there eventually (hopefully.)

Beside him, Kate squirms. She runs her fingers through his hair and pulls his head back. He lets out a little shout, because this so isn't what he thought her reaction would be when she was massaging his scalp a second ago and damn it, he's both aroused and annoyed right now by her lack of interest.

"Twenty minutes," she mutters, her attention still immersed in whatever (boring) book she's attending to.

"We finally get home early from work and you're reading?"

"If I was reading one of your books, you wouldn't be bothering me. In fact, you'd leave the room so I could read faster."

"No, I'd probably still be annoying you. I need help getting the details right on this Nikki and Rook scene. I'm thinking some fudge and-"

"I thought Nikki and Rook were fighting?"

"Make-up sex, Beckett. Dirty, hot, incredible make-up sex. You're my muse. It's your job to inspire me."

She rolls her eyes. "You're so vain."

"It's not like I think this is about me."

"Don't you?"

Castle laughs, resting his head back against her pillows. "Did we just have a conversation in Carly Simon lyrics?"

Her concentration is cracking; she smiles. "Missed a few words here or there, but yeah, pretty much."

"That's kind of awesome. I've been thinking of starting a karaoke night at The Old Haunt. Maybe a game room too. You know, nothing too fancy, but an arcade game here or there or guitar hero? Of course then I'd need big screen-"

"Castle!"

"What?"

"If you want to have sex at some point tonight, let me finish this chapter."

He grunts, stares up at the shadows undulating across the ceiling. He should probably just suck it up and start writing; sooner or later he's going to have to delve into the complications between Nikki and Rook. He could pick a fight to motivate himself. No, that would probably blow up in his face. Or he can just skip to the make-up sex and work on the argument later.

Castle grabs his pad off the floor (because she _still_ hasn't gotten his side of the bed a nightstand yet) and starts jotting down notes. (Okay, maybe not notes so much as doodles of stick figures in some Kama Sutra positions that he can use at some point later.)

"You're writing?"

Heh. Attention grabbed.

"Sh, Beckett. I'm very busy."

"I really thought for a while there that you had grown up. Still a child, I see."

"You bring it out in me."

"I'm flattered?"

"No you're not. You finished reading yet?"

"Why are you so antsy tonight?"

"Because," Castle mumbles, and his mouth is back on her neck, right where she likes it. He hears the intake of air, the slight hitch in her breath. "Do you have any idea how torturous it is to watch you every day and not have time to sleep with you? How gorgeous you are when you get into that room with a suspect and stalk him like you're about to snap his head off?" He slides a hand underneath her shirt, runs it over the smooth plane of her stomach. "How amazing you are when you sit with victim's families and coach them with compassion people can only dream of achieving? You can't fault a guy for wanting you in his bed." He looks around a room that's not his and shrugs. "Or wanting to be in your bed."

Kate cups his chin, presses her lips to his. "I really do love your words," she whispers.

"Tell me how much. Say _Castle, you know you're my favorite writer. No one can ever compare to you in your brilliance. I just pretend to love other books because I'm waiting for your next novel that you've so graciously based on me._"

She pats his cheek twice. "You've ruined the moment. And Castle? I will never say that to you."

"You're so vain. You probably think all writers want to base characters on you now."

Kate closes her book, resting it on the night stand. She turns to face him and he's not quite sure if he's won or if she's going to punish him (and not in the good way.) "Back to this again? Were you trying to do new variations on the song? Because for a writer that wasn't very good."

"You're so unsupportive. You know what would totally kick ass, though? If I rewrote the words to You're So Vain using Nikki and Rook. Oh! Or us!"

"Is this what you do instead of writing? Procrastinate?"

"Or this." He shows her his pad; her eyes widen.

"What? I don't even know what position that is!"

"Flip it sideways."

She starts to laugh. "Seriously?"

"Can we do it?"

She turns the notebook again, tilting her head to survey it from another angle. "I need some time to prep for that. Preferably when I haven't been working all day. This weekend?"

"Holding you to that." He grabs his cell beside him and flips through some apps before landing on YouTube. In seconds he finds the song, presses play as sounds streams into the bedroom.

"You're really going to change the lyrics?"

He holds the phone up to his mouth like a microphone and she's looking at him like he's crazy and okay, he quite possibly is at the moment. "You walked in to the party, like you thought you owned the room. Your badge held high right below my eye, your shirt it was maaaaaroon."

Kate laughs and he knows she's about to start singing, that in the privacy of her bedroom she can be the person she was supposed to be before murder and revenge and justice became her life. "You had one eye in the mirror as you watched yourself go by. And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner-"

"Hey! You're not changing the lyrics. And while I appreciate your lovely voice, that's not the game."

"Come on, Castle. Do I really need to? It works."

He wiggles his eyebrows. "Did you dream you'd one day be my partner, Beckett? All those times you were reading my novels in college because you're such a big Rick Castle fan?"

She smacks him across the chest. "See! Vain!"

The chorus is ending and he starts again. "You had me several years ago when I was still quite the playboy-"

"How could we forget those glory days?"

He grins at her, continuing. "You got me to change my petty ways and then I never wanted to leave. I gave away the black book for you and started to work every day. Our courtship started with black cups of coffee, black cups of coffee."

"I never drank it black."

"Well, two pumps of sugar free vanilla doesn't have quite the same ring to it!"

"Stick to your day job, Castle."

"It's not that bad! I'm actually quite clever!"

Kate props herself up on her side, staring at him. He'll never get tired of her like this, of how beautiful she is, of how much she's changed since he's met her. He still wants to introduce her to the childish things in life: laser tag, guitar hero, batting cages. The things he's gotten back in his since she's become a bigger part of it. Castle bends down, drawing her bottom lip between his teeth. He can feel her grin widen against his mouth, her hand bracing the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Her mouth is hot, searing, a desperate need.

"See? Isn't this better than reading?" he breathes.

"Mmm, I don't know. Reading your sex scenes has its advantages."

"Only mine though, right?"

"Don't worry, Castle. I'm still a one writer girl." She rolls over on top of him, straddling his waist. "Fudge, huh? I don't think Nikki would do fudge."

"What would she do?"

"You're her writer. You tell me."

Castle pulls the hair band from her braid, unraveling it with his fingers. It's all waves and full body, the smell of her ginger shampoo filling the room. "You're her. Inspire me."

She used to argue when he said she was Nikki Heat. She'd roll her eyes, fight him. But she embraces it now. She takes her role of his muse in stride, plays along because all those years were worth something to him, to her, to them.

"Fudge, whipped cream, it's too cliché. Nikki would use something she can write with, something that honors Rook's career." She rakes her nails over his chest, drawing patterns as she talks. "Those icing pens. She'd make him - What are they fighting about?"

Castle inhales a breath, his hands spanning across her waist. "He's going to Afghanistan for a few months. War corresponding."

Kate nods her head, looking thoughtful. "It's his job. I'm sure Nikki understands that."

"She does. Rook didn't tell her immediately, though. She, uh, she loves him. She's upset he wasn't honest with her.

"I assume he ends up staying? Unless you're giving Nikki a new love interest?"

He smiles at her wistfully. "Never. He gets a better offer in New York."

"Is that really why he's staying? What are your character's motivations, Mr. Castle?"

He slides his hands over her stomach and up until he's palming one of her breasts in his hand. She gasps, her hips involuntary jerking forward. "Walk me through the rest of it," he says, his voice strained. "Tell me what Rook's motivations are."

Kate tilts her head down, hair falling around her face. "He sees what it's doing to her," she answers, quietly. "Nikki's upset he lied, but it's more than that. She's scared that if he goes away to a war zone, she'll lose him. Possibly forever and that scares the hell out of her. He senses that. He stays for her."

He's so fucking in love with her at this moment that he almost can't breathe. "You're wrong." He pulls her to him gently, kissing her. His voice is like air when he speaks. "He's staying for him. He can't let her go."

There's a change in her eyes; they're a contradiction of light and dark, a tumbling evolution. "Castle, I-" The shrill ring of her phone filters into the room, cuts her off. "Shit."

"Don't answer it."

"You know I have to." Kate clears her throat, reaching for the offensive device. "Beckett." She turns toward the window, her profile masked in the moonlight. "You're kidding. How far away are you?" She swipes a hand through her tousled hair. "No, Castle and I will meet you at the precinct in an hour."

"Who was murdered?" he asks when she hangs up.

"No one, at least not tonight. That was Ryan. Apparently Jennings wasn't our only killer. He had a partner."

"What?"

"He squealed on him in prison. Ryan and Espo are picking up the partner out on the Island." Kate presses her forehead to his. "One of these days we'll have an uninterrupted night. Sorry, Castle."

"This is why you should become a lieutenant. You'd be home by six. We could go to dinners, have as much sex as we want, see a movie if there was anything other than shit out. The Chief of D's thinks you'd be great-"

"What?" She climbs off of him, kneeling on the bed. There's a change in her, a hardening of her posture, a look that means hell. "Castle, what do you mean the chief thinks I'd be great?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. What's wrong?"

She's up and off the bed, pacing the bedroom. Her shirt is hanging off of one shoulder, her hair a tangled mess around her face. "What exactly did you say to him?" She's seething and her words are clipped and he's so very fucked in the moment for whatever reason (because honesty he's still not entirely sure what he did.)

"Nothing! I was having drinks with the mayor the other night while you were with Lanie and the chief stopped by. We started talking about you and how hard you work and I mentioned you were thinking about taking the lieutenant test-"

"Jesus, Castle. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I wanted to keep that to myself? That I was going to decide not to take it?"

"It's almost midnight and you're being dragged back in-"

"Because it's my job! Maybe I don't want to be home at six every night. Maybe I don't want to be stuck behind a desk dealing with red tape. I'm thirty-three years old, Castle! I'm not ready to leave the streets. I'm not ready to leave my team. Did you not figure this out when you were writing _Heat Rises_?"

It's then that the irony of the situation strikes him; the fact that he's written this fight before, the notion that he couldn't delve into his literary world tonight because he couldn't bear to write an argument. He's not even quite sure how they've gotten here, except now she looks like she's going to kill him, he's clearly not getting sex, and he has to go into work at midnight (which he doesn't necessarily mind, but it's not exactly in his top ten things he wants to be doing right now.)

He realizes he hasn't said anything and the daggers she shoots are worse than her gun.

"What's the big deal? So I bragged about you to my friends. I'm proud of you!"

Shots fired. Flattery is clearly getting him nowhere.

"Your _friends_ are the mayor and the chief of detectives! This isn't beer with the guys! They've been eyeing me for years for this promotion and I've managed to avoid it every time. Telling the chief that makes it sound like I'm considering-"

"You _are_ considering it!"

"Between us! I was talking to you about it as my partner, as my boyfriend. Not fodder for a conversation between you and my boss! I don't need your connections to get further in my career!"

"Are you kidding me, Kate? First of all, I'm not using my connections to get you anywhere. They know how good you are. You're the youngest female to make detective. Hell, you were what? Twenty-eight and basically running that precinct? My friendship with the mayor or a conversation with your chief isn't why they're interested!"

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"No. I don't get why you're pissed."

"I've let you work with me for four years-"

"_Let_? Like all of a sudden you're doing me a favor?"

"Aren't I?"

He bites his tongue because he's going to say something he regrets, because if he does she might leave and never come back to him. He inhales a breath to calm his nerves. His feet are planted firmly on the ground. Their eye contact doesn't waver; an all-out battle.

"That's not fair," he says, quietly. "I might not have gone through the academy or worked my way up the ladder, but I'm still your partner. You don't get to decide I'm not because you're mad at me. I'm still with you on ninety-five percent of those cases, spinning theory, helping you solve them. I didn't realize I had said something that should have remained a secret but you don't get to treat me like I'm still that pesky writer who started to follow you around four years ago."

The anger ebbs, but there's still something there. Disappointment or regret and he turns away from her because he doesn't need to see it. "You can't mess with my job, Castle. I know you didn't realize what you were doing but now I'm stuck in a position I don't want to be in. I'm obligated-"

"Kate, if you don't want to take the test, don't. No one is forcing you to."

"It's not that easy. They expect things from me now, things I'm not ready to give them." She sits on the opposite end of the bed, staring out the window. Even without looking at her, he assumes she's biting her lip, mentally calculating how much time she has before they need to leave. "I just... I need you to go home tonight."

"Kate-"

"Castle, please. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Battle lost. Fuck.

He sits there, unmoving. He should cut his losses and go. She'll be fine in the morning (or he'll spend the entire night trying to convince himself of that.) She's getting dressed, slipping on her boots and he needs to do something, fix this because even with him gone, they'll both spend the rest of the night harping on this. He picks up his phone, typing quietly.

_I'm sorry for overstepping boundaries. I really didn't think it was a big deal but I'll keep my mouth shut. I won't apologize for wanting to brag about you, though._

He listens as her phone beeps and buzzes, the way she slides it off the table and into the palm of her hand. It's silent, a million words spoken in the quiet of her apartment. A million ways he's fucked up. A million ways he's somehow ruined this because he doesn't think. A million ways he's -

"I love you, Rick."

His heart stops; he blinks.

He's imagining this because she's never said it before, but this is Beckett, and of course she'd choose a moment like this. It's this beautifully complicated timing that he'd never be able to conjure into words no matter how hard he tries. It settles inside of him, fills gaps he didn't realize had been left bare.

"I know. I figured it out when you took me to see _Forbidden Planet _and spent the entire night pretending that you didn't know I had seen it."

She twists so she's looking at him over her shoulder. She's smiling, and he recalls their first fight weeks after they started dating, how simple it is for them to battle and concede. He wonders if this is how they'll spend the rest of their lives, if fights don't always include getting hit with random, flying objects (Meredith) or a hole in his credit card (Gina) before resolution commences. "You knew I knew?"

"You caught me mouthing the lines but you let me get away with it. In fact, you spent all night at Remy's going over the history of the film as if I didn't know it. I figured there had to be a reason why."

"I did act as if I had no idea, but that wasn't when I fell in love with you. It was before that."

His eyes light up and suddenly she's open and honest and bare and she really is this complicated, gorgeous mystery that he'll never be able to solve. "Before? When?"

"Nice try, Castle."

He reaches across the bed, sliding his fingers between hers. She squeezes, an apology, an acceptance, a promise. "It took you six months into this to say it. You've clearly had these feelings for a while."

"I have."

"Why now? Why not before?"

"Fear? I know it wasn't fair to you and there were so many times I wanted to tell you but...I was scared. I thought if I said it the other shoe would drop. I know that sounds stupid and ridiculous but I wasn't expecting this. I wasn't...I lived inside my mother's murder for so long. It was safe there, it was protection. Until you came along and there were so many times I didn't know how to handle that."

"So why tonight?"

Kate brings her other hand up to his cheek, brushing it with her fingers softly. "I realized you can't let me go any more than I can let you go. There's a part of me that hates what you did with the chief-"

"Kate-"

She rests a finger over his lips to silence him. "But I also appreciate that you believe in me that much. No one has ever had that kind of faith in me, Castle."

"I always will."

"I know. I can't have you doing that again, though. You have to know that some of the stuff we discuss is just between us. Not Ryan and Espo, not the mayor, not the chief of detectives. Just us."

"I promise to think when I speak." Castle holds up two fingers. "Scouts honor."

"You were never a scout."

"Wow, it's been that long?"

"What?"

"I admitted that to you on our first case together. Beckett, you've been in love with me forever!"

She grabs a pillow, smacking him with it. "You're an ass."

"But you love me."

"No, I don't," she answers with a laugh. "Quick case of temporary insanity." She slides her hand from his and stands. "We have to go."

"You're letting me come? And not in the way I wish right now." She narrows her eyes at him and it's back to normal, thank god. "Oh!" Castle exclaims, slipping into his shoes. "Valentine's Day when you ditched Motorcycle Boy to take me out for a drink."

"Really? That's what you're going with? No."

"Before or after?"

He can see she's trying to fight it, but the smile crosses her lips regardless. "Before."

"When I offered to throw a fundraiser for your mother?"

"Before, but that did mean a lot to me."

"When you invited me to the comfort food truck and gave me fake flowers?"

"How do you remember all of this?"

"I'm a writer. I take notes. So?"

Kate rolls her eyes. "Before. Come on." She starts to head out and he's following behind her. She's nearly out the bedroom door, when she spins around, her bottom lip worried between her teeth. She's debating over something in her head and then she finally speaks, all unsurity and hope. "You stopped saying it to me a few months ago because I wasn't ready... I'm ready."

"For what?" he teases.

"Nevermind. I don't know why I bother."

He pulls her against him in the threshold of the door, mouth breathing against her ear. "It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight."

"_Lolita_?" she mutters, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Interesting choice."

"Your extensive knowledge of literature makes me fall more in love with you all the time."

"Guess I'll have to stay up to date then. I wouldn't want to disappoint." She presses her lips against his shirt, before pushing out of his embrace "We really need to go."

They're in the elevator when it hits him and he claps his hands together in excitement (and quite possibly scares the little old lady who lives across the hall from Kate who is surprisingly awake and formally dressed given the hour.) Kate looks up at him with an amused expression.

"You okay there, Castle?"

"I got it. When you took care of Alexis' egg baby! What was that thing's name?"

"Fagen."

"You remember my grandeggbaby's name. You were so in love with me."

"Sh," she admonishes, smiling politely at her neighbor. "You can't even remember the little things' name. What kind of grandfather are you?" she says in a hushed voice.

"A nonexistent one because my daughter will remain pure and virtuous until the end of time. Or at least until I'm dead."

They walk out into the night, the air biting and bitter. He steps closer to her, pulls her into him to ward out the chill. Her car is a block away tonight (construction in her garage, some nonsense that caused him to complain the entire walk back to her apartment earlier) and she slips her hand into his. The quiet speaks for them for a minute or two and then she's looking up at him, blinking back tears (from what he assumes is the cold.)

"It was after that, by the way."

"I know when it was."

"I really don't think you do."

"When Madison was here. Even she knew you wanted my babies, Beckett."

He can hear her smile when she answers; maybe he won't go with her to work tonight. He thinks he finally understands how to write that fight, how easy it can be to let it all go.

"You're still wrong."

"What about-"

"Castle. Shut up."


	5. Chapter 5

a/n: I just want to put out a warning that I've basically never read a comic book in my life and the only superhero movies I've seen are Spiderman and Batman so if my information isn't 100% accurate, please blame the gods of Wiki.

* * *

><p>v. February, 2013<p>

It's the thunder that initially wakes her.

Kate's eyes flutter open, the bedroom bathed in near darkness. The shades are drawn, the rain slamming against the windowpanes. She buries her head underneath the pillows, finding solace in the soft, warm cotton and faint scent of Castle's detergent as she listens to the storm outside. She slides her foot across the sheets, peeks out from her cocoon to glance at Castle's side of the bed. It's empty, the sheets a rumpled mess, and she figures he's in his office writing. The blanket is pulled up around her, and she slides back underneath, drifting again into a state of unconsciousness.

She's dreaming of childhood and her mother, dancing in the streets, dancing at the cabin in the woods, dancing with _him_. The storm rages throughout; her past and present collide. She watches her mother now with Castle; he's teaching her some moves (ones Kate doesn't recognize or at least can't name) and her mother's laughing and it's a sound Kate hasn't heard in ages; it clenches at her heart, burns through her soul. They're in a wide open space, nothing but them and white walls, empty gaps, peace. It smells like lilacs and summer, memories long since forgotten. She considers moving forward to talk to them, to take her mother's place, but instead she sits and watches. The wall is cold against her back and she closes her eyes, listening to the rain, to the whispered words Johanna and Castle are speaking. She can't make it out entirely (or really at all), but her mother's voice is like satin; a comforting, needed soundtrack. She pulls her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them allowing the world to spin. The voices change. Her parents are now together, happy. It all coffee and reminders of early mornings and she opens her eyes because it's been so long since she's seen them together, since life has truly been normal.

Kate blinks and it's not the kitchen in the apartment she once lived in, but Castle's bedroom shadowed in early morning storms. She smells the coffee and breakfast food before she sees it and her lips lift into a lazy smile when she spots Castle walking into the room.

"You made me breakfast in bed?"

"Oh." He bites his lip in mock embarrassment, images dancing in the irises of his eyes. "I thought you were still asleep. This is for me."

She tosses one of his throw pillows at him. "Do I even get coffee?"

He places the tray between them and climbs back into bed, brushing his lips over hers. "What are you going to give me in return?"

"My undying love and devotion."

"Sarcasm noted, Detective Beckett."

He settles in next to her and she's moving over, her shoulder resting against his chest. His fingers are tangled in her hair and she exhales a breath, closing her eyes. The dream sits with her like an old, lost friend; it's comforting, heartbreaking.

"Kate? You okay?"

She opens her eyes and tilts her head to look at him. She sees the concern there and sometimes she forgets that he's more than that little boy who taught her how to live again, that in so many ways he's everything she's needed and wanted for years now (and _yes_, that still scares the shit out of her sometimes.)

"I was just dreaming about my mom," she murmurs. She grabs the bottle of syrup, angling it over the chocolate chip pancakes. "How much?"

"Sugar coma, please." She cuts the two giant pancakes in half and he raises an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my half. I didn't have plans to get diabetes today."

"You're such a drama queen."

"Me?" She laughs. "Okay, Castle. You're right. _I'm_ the drama queen in this relationship." She starts to pour the syrup onto his half, the brown liquid filling each crevice of the plate. It gushes over the sides, and he dips a slice of bacon in it, causing Kate to scrunch her nose. His eating habits leave little to be desired and she thinks she was right all those years ago when she called him a nine-year-old on a sugar high (because really, the amount of sugar he consumes sometimes astounds her.)

"Bad dream?" he asks, biting into the bacon. There's a drop of syrup hidden in the corner of his lips and she licks it away with a slow, methodical ease.

"I'm not telling you now. I wouldn't want you to have to give up your title." She can feel him smiling against her lips. She considers telling him everything, but she doesn't need the morning to turn into a battleground of her memories. "No. It was nice." His fingers continue to play with strands of her hair. "I miss her a lot sometimes."

"I know." He lets her go, kisses the side of her head. "Was this your plan? Get emotional with me so I'd share my breakfast with you?"

"Possibly, although I would have stolen some regardless."

"You're so greedy, Beckett." He pours her a cup of coffee. "Will you tell me something about her? About your relationship with her?"

The mug is steaming in her hands. It billows around her, the sweet aroma of cinnamon strong. Underneath the blanket his arm wraps around her waist and there's a weird intermix of love and loss ciphering through her veins. "Her favorite movie was _Hannah and Her Sisters. _I remember one morning when I was nine." There's a laugh that comes from somewhere within and she rests the back of her head on his shoulder. "It was a day like this. Pouring, thunder, lightning, the works. I wanted to go outside and play in it. I hated being cooped up. My dad was working so I begged my mom to take me out and I remember so clearly what she looked like in that moment. She was curled up in bed with a cup of coffee, in pajamas. I never saw my mom like that, Castle. She was always so composed and professional. She looked at me and said, _Katie, this here is a classic. Sit with me and I promise when it's over I'll take you out._ I was nine. I couldn't care less about the movie." She can feel the steady beat of Castle's heart against her back; the calloused fingers that tell their story playing with the light strands of her hair. "I was asleep in ten minutes but years later when I was seventeen I watched it with her again and understood why she loved it so much. I watch it at least once every few months."

Kate cuts off a piece of omelette from the plate in front of her. Gooey cheese oozes out and she smiles because he's used more of the cheddar for her. "There. One memory for the day. What about you?"

"My memories of rainy weekends consist of joy riding in a Lamborghini during boarding school on some _very _dangerous roads upstate."

"It's really a miracle you're still alive, isn't it?"

"You have no idea."

"Ever miss it?"

"No, I think I've finally outgrown that phase of my life."

"It only took you forty-one years."

"Girls mature faster than boys!" Castle protests. "Besides, you can admit it. You loved that bad boy side I had."

Kate turns toward him with a raised eyebrow. "Castle, I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but I did not like you when we met. You were annoying and truthfully if it wasn't against the law I would have killed you myself. You're just lucky I fell in love with you."

He grins at her. "That I am."

She can't help it; she laughs. "Shut up." She grabs a blueberry out of the fruit cup he's made (because even with his love of sugar, he's oddly well balanced when he needs to be.) The juice stains her fingers as she pops it into her mouth and he grabs her hand, sliding her finger into his mouth. Her breath catches in her throat as his tongue rolls over the pad of her pointer finger. He's staring at her, the blue of his eyes dangerous and she'll never tell him but she _might have_ loved that bad boy quality in him back then, maybe _sort of_ misses it now every once in a while. "I could have gotten it," she manages.

"Yeah, just thought I'd help you out."

"Thanks."

"You done?" he asks.

She takes her coffee off the tray and nods. Castle places it on the floor and then she's curled up against him, his bare legs wrapped around hers. Despite the fact that it's the dead of winter, his apartment is warm. (When winter had first hit, she had joked with him that he kept his loft like a tropical island merely so she'd walk around half naked. He had smiled, lifted an eyebrow in mock shock, but had never denied a word of it.) Her lips brush over the soft cotton of his shirt, sliding her hands underneath. His body heats her hands and when the thunder slams across the sky, she finds herself moving, nearly cloaked around him.

"Scared of a little thunder, Detective?"

'"You got me, Castle. I spend all day with criminals, I can kick the shit out of pretty much anyone, but the thunder…I just can't handle it."

"You are so sexy when you talk about beating up men twice your size. Not sexy when you tell me you wanted to kill me, though. Remember that suspect list we came up with if I were to ever get murdered? Maybe we should add you onto that."

"I want to kill you _less_ now if that helps."

"I don't want you to _want_ to kill me at all!"

"Like you've never gotten the urge when you're pissed at me? Come on, Castle. You can admit it."

Before she knows it, she's pressed against the mattress and his lips are on hers, soft and pliant. He tastes like syrup and the slightest hint of berries and she wants more of him, all of him. She lifts her hips off the bed and after so many months she's come to anticipate his actions, the gentle way in which he hooks his fingers in her underwear, pulling it down. He tosses them onto the floor, his boxers following and then he's inside of her with one swift motion, mouth pressed against her ear.

"Why would I want to when I can do this instead?" He tugs on her lobe with his teeth. "It's so much better."

Kate cups his chin with her palm, turning his head so he's looking at her. She stares up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He's soft beneath her fingertips, heavy above her in the most perfect of ways. His tongue is burning her as he licks a trail along her clavicle, his left hand sliding underneath her shirt until her breast in his hand and she's biting back a moan.

"You're just trying to avoid arrest," she murmurs.

"Innocent until proven guilty. You have nothing." Castle bites the skin at her shoulder, left bare from the wide neck of her tee. "You're wearing my shirt."

"You're so astute, Mr. Castle."

He lifts his head, and he has the most serious look on his face like he's about to explain the fact of life, or evolution, or the components to writing a best-selling novel. "Beckett, the Green Lantern shirt is sacred."

"Is it?" She rolls her eyes, because _of course_ that's what this was about. (For the record, it was the first shirt she found when fumbling through his drawers last night; plus it smelled like him and since he was already asleep when she came in...)

"By wearing it you are being given great control. You need sufficient strength and willpower to wield the mightiness of the ring. Or in this case, the cotton." He slides his hand between her legs and presses his palm against her. She doesn't bite it back this time; she moans, lifting her hips into his touch. "Do you have it, Beckett? Do you have the willpower?"

She hooks her right leg around him, and his presence is everywhere around her, inside of her. "I think I can handle it." She rubs the sole of her foot over his ass with a grin. "Besides, you have to admit. I look good in this."

He's grinning at her, all hope and happiness. "It's actually sexier than you being naked." His hands continue to roam across the terrain of her body and she doesn't think she'll ever tire of it, of how it's become this comfortable familiarity after all this time. "Hey, speaking of comics, you never told me why you wanted to be Elektra."

She blinks, surprised at the question. "I did. Badass ninja skills."

"Which version of her did you want to be?"

He's over her, elbows digging into the mattress. He doesn't move, doesn't need to at this moment. She slides her hand through his hair, resting it just over his ear before letting it fall. "When I was younger, it was _Root of Evil _but after my mother was killed I felt a connection to volume 2, number 18. Christina reminded me so much of my mother in that version. It felt more...plausible to me."

"She was trying to help others when she was shot."

"Later on, after her father was murdered in front of her, Elektra dropped out of Columbia and moved to China to study martial arts. I might not have done that, but I left Stanford, became determined to go through the academy. When I was at NYU I started taking karate, tae kwon do." She hides her head in the pillows, her cheeks tinting with embarrassment. "There was a part of me that felt so connected to her."

"You didn't become an assassin."

"Didn't I? At least to some extent?"

"It's not quite the same. You do however have Elektra's ability to mesmerize people."

Kate laughs and he's so still inside of her that she swivels her hips, her eyes widening in suggestion. "I'm all for lazy rainy day sex, Castle, but I prefer a little movement."

It's a challenge he takes to heart. He slides out of her and back in; once, twice. Her eyes close and she's listening to the rain, to the thunder that quickens his pace for the slightest of seconds like he's following some sort of rhythm or beat. There's something about this kind of unhurried sex that she loves, the way it's about so much more between them and has been for a while now. His bedroom is still in shadows, and she can almost see the rain undulating across the beige walls.

"You want to know why I fell in love with you?" His voice is a whisper in her ear and despite the warmth of his apartment, her skin prickles with chills. She opens her eyes, lips lifting in a smile.

"Because I can run in heels?"

"No, that's why I wanted to sleep with you. That and your ass in those jeans that-"

She holds up a hand. "Okay, I get it. Why did you fall in love with me?"

"You are quite possibly the smartest woman I've ever met." She opens her mouth and his finger is over her lips before she can say anything. "Don't ruin the moment by mentioning the types of women that came before you."

She goes to bite his finger when he pulls it away. "Richard Castle, I would never."

"You always surprise me at how much you know about _everything_. Books, comics, film. You know the lists of qualities you make of your dream significant other?"

Kate lifts an eyebrow. "No. God, Castle, you can be such a metrosexual sometimes."

His hand slips between her legs again, scissoring her clit between his fingers. She bites her lip; she knows what he's doing and she won't, can't let him win but – "Castle," she gasps. He slams into her and she's gripping his bicep, fingers digging into him. And then she's flat on her back again, his fingers brushing against her lip. Her tongue darts out and she can taste herself on him, ready and willing and suddenly desperate. She's writhing underneath him when his whispered words touch the room, deep and laced with desire. "Not yet. Wield the power."

He's motionless again and her breathing quiets, settles.

"The point is, Kate, that since the moment I've met you, you've surpassed all expectations of what my perfect woman should be."

"I'm not perfect, Castle."

"No, you're a pain in the ass sometimes. If you're in a bad mood you pick the dumbest fights that you never actually admit you're wrong about and you almost always are."

Her eyes narrow. "Tread lightly, Rick."

"You still won't act out that scene when Nikki is dressed like a streetwalker-"

"And I never will."

"You won't concede to the fact that Indiana Jones is the greatest action movie character that ever lived."

"Because he's not."

"He is. But despite all of that, you remind me every day of how absolutely extraordinary you are."

"Is this because I read comic books?" she teases.

"Yeah, I was hoping if I said all this sappy stuff you'd agree to dress up like Elektra for my birthday in a couple of months."

"Okay."

"Really?"

Her lips are against his, her words breathing fire into his mouth. "April Fool's."

"Mean!"

She laughs, shifting underneath him. It's all the reminder he needs; he slowly starts moving again. Long, purposeful strides that drive her to the brink until he pulls back, lets her take in air. His mouth is branding her skin and lips with an ownership that already belongs to him. She lowers her leg back onto the bed, squeezing her thighs closed and she moans because she's so _so_ tight around him. His body is over hers like cover and she reaches her arms back, pressing her palms back on the headboard. He thrusts into her and _fuck_, she's actually closer than she wishes she were at the moment.

"How badly do you want to come right now?" Castle taunts.

"Willpower, Castle. So much-" He lifts himself out of her, until he's sinking deeper, deeper. She loses her breath, eyes closing. "Willpower," she makes out.

"Should I talk about baseball to reduce sexual desire?" His mouth is sweet on hers, all light kisses and tantalizing words. "Did I tell you I got us season tickets?"

"You want to reduce sexual desire by talking to me about men in tight pants?"

"Are you fantasizing that Jeter is in you right now?"

"Swisher?"

"Normally I'd be threatened but if you react to them how you did to Torre, we have no problem here."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"You fangirled, Kate."

"I did not!"

"Beckett. Kate. Detective. Love me, Joe!"

She releases a hand from the headboard, smacking his chest. "I hate you."

"Why have you never fangirled over me like that?"

"Because your ego doesn't need it."

"But you would if I had a moderately sized…ego," he goads.

"Nope. Never. You're not that good."

He lifts his hips, and she feels him everywhere, her body tingling. She bites her lip to keep from crying out but she sees the smug look in his eyes. Her hand grips the headboard again and _shit_, she really does not stand a chance right now. No, she can do this. She can keep whatever goddamn strength and power to prove a point because that's what she does. At least when it comes to him.

"You're sure I'm not that good?"

"You've been dating me for how long? Do you think I'll give in that easily?"

"I love you, you know."

"I do know that." She relaxes against the pillows. His shirt is sticking to her skin and her body is scorched with longing and she wants to savor this moment, live in it when she's on shift late or he's locked in his office writing. "I love you too," she whispers and her chest clenches, because it feels _so _right and then the talking is over and he's moving inside of her with reckless abandon and so much need.

Castle's hands are in her hair, whispering her name over and over into her mouth.

She cups his cheek in her hand until he's looking at her. "In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil's might, beware my power…" She pauses, sliding her lips against the curve of his ear. "Green Lantern's light."

"God, Beckett," he groans and he's gone, driving into her, arms braced at her sides . He bites down on her shoulder as he comes, and she's right behind him giving up power. She breaks around him, and she aches because it's too much, too little. "The shirt is yours," he mutters against her neck. "You're worthy."

"We can share it."

Castle rolls off of her and she turns on her side to look at him. She rubs her knuckle over his five o'clock shadow, watches as the lightening outside highlights the room in a glow. She counts the seconds in her head as her breathing returns to normal; it takes seven seconds before the thunder cracks and she buries her head in the pillow. His fingers tickle her arm and it's suddenly so quiet with the exception of the rain and thunder.

"When we get a dog can we name him Agamemnon?" (And like always, Castle can't stand the silence for too long.)

"Agamemnon was killed. Maybe something a little more uplifting?"

"Wiener?"

She looks up at him with a glare. "I meant what I said about getting the dog though. You have to cut down on precinct hours, Rick. I don't want it to be raised in doggy day care when you can work from home."

"It's like you're housetraining me."

"You and the dog can learn at the same time," Kate jokes.

"I guess it's good practice for when I'm home with our kids."

Her heart skips a beat but it doesn't scare her like she would expect. "I like how you say that as if you've never been home with a child before."

"Are you kidding me? Alexis was never a child. She waxed poetic from a young age and took care of _me_. What if the new one doesn't do that?"

"Then it's a good thing we're not having a kid anytime in the near future?

"But we can have an option out for more than one right?"

"It's not like leasing a car, Castle. How about I move in next week, we get a dog in a few months or a year and go from there?"

"A _year_?" he asks exasperated. "I hate it when you're so practical."

"Well someone in this relationship should be."

"Will you just say it?"

"Say what?" she asks, confused.

"You spent all morning talking about Elektra. You must have wanted to mention that strange coincidence of Daredevil saving Elektra from Eric Slaughter when you, my dear girlfriend, came to my rescue with the crazy, psycho cop Slaughter and I know you, Beckett. You're going to save it for a time when I'm not prepared and I'd rather feel like a moron now than when it comes up again, so please, tell me I'm an idiot and let's move on."

She barks out a laugh. "Calm down, renegade crimefighter. You are an idiot, but I wasn't going to rub it in your face. I think you learned your lesson from the days of Slaughter."

Castle lets out a sigh of relief. "Okay, good. Huh. I probably shouldn't have brought it up then."

"Nope. Probably not."

She's half asleep on his chest when she hears him. "Man, that guy was such a jackass."

"Get over it, Castle," she murmurs.

(He doesn't; at least not for the next ten minutes that she's awake.)


	6. Chapter 6

vi. April, 2013

In the darkest part of night, the Atlantic looks nearly mystical.

The sky is filled with telltale signs of rain, obscuring the moon behind gray clouds. There's a bite to the air; all chilled, whistling winds and foreshadowing of storms. The porch swing rocks as Castle stares out into the ocean, his feet sliding across the slatted wood. The bottle of scotch beside him is nearly empty, down more than halfway and he's still not drunk and fuck that because he should be, he _wants _to be.

He picks up the alcohol, taking another swig of the amber liquid. It's been six days of this and it's like water now, smooth and ineffective. He leans his head back against the bench, his eyes closing when he hears the footsteps tracking through the house. The gentle clicking of her heels; the swift, agile way in which she moves around in the darkness.

He listens as her bag drops on the floor of his bedroom behind him and he grinds his teeth because he really, really, _really_ does not want to be around her when he's like this. His fists clench at his side, nails digging into his palm. She's taking off her shoes because when she walks outside, it's just socks and quietness and if he dares to look at her, he'll falter, unravel, crumble.

"Kate, go home." His voice is hoarse, almost unrecognizable.

"No."

"Kate-"

"You left a _note_, Rick. You asked for time and space and I gave it to you. I didn't call. I didn't text. I didn't send half the NYPD up here to check on you as much as I might have wanted to." The swing tilts as she sits beside him. "It's been six days. I'm done leaving you alone."

She pulls her knees up to her chest, wraps her arms around herself and he closes his eyes because it reminds him of Nikki Heat, of stories he's created, of simplicity.

"What would Rook do in this situation?" she asks, and it's like she's reading his mind as if she's nothing but a figment of his imagination, this subconscious inside his soul.

He lets the waves crash over the shore, not once, not twice but three times before he finds his voice again. His throat burns with the acid of a thousand lies and he opens his eyes, blinking. There's moisture there that he'll chalk up to the wind or a drop of rain, anything but the emotion he's hellbent on fighting. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." Kate tilts her chin on her knees so that she's looking up at him. He can see her from the corner of his eye, all concern and hopeful thinking. The sleeves of the sweatshirt Alexis gave her from Columbia are pulled over her hands as she moves a wisp of hair away from her face. She's contemplating, writing for him when he can't do it himself. "He would go off on his own and it would annoy the hell out of Nikki but she'd look for him and find him eventually in some godforsaken location only he would think to go to. She would tell him that he had to figure this out, that he's spent so much of his time with drug lords and criminals, going to places other people would never have the courage to go and that if he could do that, he can do this."

"This isn't one of my books, Kate. Drop it."

"The way you drop something every time I don't want to discuss it? You push and you push until I'm forced to deal with it. You write because it gives you things that life doesn't. You let Rook take a bullet for Nikki at the end of _Heat Rises_ because you…you were working through something. Why aren't you doing that now?"

_Something._ Yeah, that's what he was working through. _Something._

Castle takes another swig of the scotch, emptying it. "It doesn't change anything. You were still the one who was shot, who died in front of me. I spent months reliving that moment. Figuring out what Rook would do right now isn't going to make this better."

"You're right, it won't. But sitting here and drinking an entire distillery isn't going to either. I've already dealt with someone who handled tragedy by curling up with a bottle. I'm not doing it again."

"Then what are you doing here, Kate?"

Her voice softens and she pries the bottle from his tight fingers. "This isn't who you are, Rick."

"Isn't that the point? I don't know who I am."

"I think we both know that's not true."

"Stop. I'm not doing this with you right now. I'm not discussing this."

"I get it, you know. I understand the urge to run away and hide. I did it for a lot longer than I should have. You don't think writing changes the outcome? Neither does wallowing."

"It's not the same thing," Castle snaps. "You weren't betrayed-"

Kate barks out a laugh. "Are you kidding me? It took me seven years to mourn my mother properly because I was too busy cleaning up the mess my dad left behind. A man who I was once in love with ended up lying to me and making me question everything I had held onto for years. A man who I trusted like a father was involved in the beginning of criminal activity and scandal that eventually killed my mother and almost killed me. You lied to me for seven months about things you asked me to let go. So yes, Castle, I've been betrayed. I moved on."

There are knots unfurling inside of him and the numbness caused by the alcohol clears. Rage rises in him like a tidal wave and he doesn't recognize himself anymore, this person who loses himself in alcohol, who snaps at his girlfriend, who feels nothing but tilting and catastrophe instead of solid ground (and the old Richard Castle would make some joke that maybe he _is_ actually drunk, but it holds no water now. Nothing does.)

His fists are clenched, knuckles white as if he's still holding onto the bottle, onto stability. "You get thirteen years and you're asking me to fix this in a week? Where do you get off lecturing me on how to move on from something?"

"I'm not asking you to fix anything. I'm asking you to at least go home and consider talking to your mother."

"There's nothing to say."

"You found out she lied to you and you were gone that night. You really have nothing to tell her?"

"It's not your business, Kate."

"The hell it's not." She's coming out of her cage, baring her claws, and it's how she gets in interrogation when the calm is gone and the fighter emerges. "This is my life too, Rick. You want to know why it took me thirteen years to move on? Because I didn't have anyone who was willing to fight my battles with me. You were this huge pain in my ass when you came around. You were intrusive, obnoxious, absolutely grating-"

"Please, keep going. This is helping," he mutters sarcastically.

"The point is you changed me. Every time you went against my wishes you did it because you knew in the long run it would benefit me. I might not have agreed with it, I might have hated you for it in the moment but I am grateful for everything you did. I still have days where my mom's situation weighs on me but for the most part I'm okay. Because of you. You don't give up on the people you love. You fight for them. Even when you're mad, you fight."

For the first time since she's sat down, Castle really looks at her. She's still staring up at him and his chest burns with so much longing and all he really wants is to take her into the bedroom so he can forget, so he can live with memories of her touch for hours to come until the haze burns off and reality sets in again. He reaches across the seat tentatively and she slides a hand out of the sleeve, gripping her fingers between us.

"I don't know how to forgive her, Kate," he admits quietly. "I can't just let this go."

"No one is asking you to. What Martha did was reprehensible but she's still your mother. You owe it to her to at least talk to her and hear her out."

"So she can lie to me again? The first time I asked about my father I was four. I didn't know why everyone else had this male figure in their life and I didn't. She came up with a big production about how it was just the two of us on an adventure and we didn't need anyone else. It was us against the world."

"You were four-"

"When I was six I asked her again. Same when I was twelve. By the time I was fourteen, I stopped. After I sold _In a Hail of Bullets_, it came up in conversation. She told me I was old enough now to know that she never knew who he was, that she _liked_ it that way because it made us stronger, it gave us _backstory_. It helped fuel my career, it helped dramatize hers. I convinced myself that she was right." He's looking back out into the ocean again, into a world far beyond what he can see. He feels her hand squeeze his, urging him to continue. "Everything - from boarding school, to being alone, to meeting Kyra, to not having a father - gave me the ammunition to write that first book. Over time, it was my own mystery. He could have been anyone and there was something hopeful in that. There didn't have to be answers for everything. And when Sophia told me he was CIA, I was almost...good with that. It fit into this little picture I had in my head."

"You just finally understood why you had so many CIA conspiracies."

Castle cracks a smile. "That too. But she knew, Kate. She knew who he was this entire time and she didn't tell me for her own selfish reasons whatever they might be. I let her move in with me and my daughter. I let her live there rent free, I let her entertain men which believe me was worthy of therapy. The most surprising thing though was that she actually became a friend. I went to her for advice. I thought that after everything we had been through when I was a kid we finally got it right." He leans his head back, the sky black above him. "Until a week ago and I'm done trying, Kate. I want her out of the loft. I want her out of my life."

"What about Alexis?"

"Alexis is nineteen. If she wants to see my mother on her own time she can."

"Castle, come on. I have never seen a daughter as dedicated to her father as Alexis is to you. She might be old enough to make her own decisions but the second you let your mother go, Alexis will take your side whether or not she agrees with it. You let her do that and there's no repairing what you're forcing her to give up."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Because I don't have the answers here, Kate."

"You go home. You yell if you need to. You fight_._" The sweatshirt unravels from around her knees and she's so close that he can smell her perfume, the ginger of her shampoo. She cups his chin, turning his face so he's looking at her. "_We_ fight. You don't get to be done, Castle. You don't get to give up because it's the easy way out. I don't agree with what Martha did, but I also know that woman loves you more than anything. She loves you as much as you love Alexis-"

"I would _never_ lie to my daughter about something like this."

"Your mother made mistakes. No one - including Martha - is disputing that. Castle, meeting her...she reminded me what it felt like to have a mom. Every time she welcomed me into the apartment, every time she called me to invite me somewhere it gave me something I hadn't felt in a long time."

Her hand falls as he shifts, but he can't turn away from the look in her eyes, the emotion that's reflecting back in his. "That's not fair. You can't use yourself as an excuse. I mean, Jesus Christ, Kate! He's a goddamn writer who has lived in the same city as me for my entire life! All this time my father was blocks away and I had no idea but she did. She knew and she never told me because it didn't fit the drama she molded her life, _our_ life into. I never even had the option to know him!" Castle buries his face in his hands and the anger and misery seems interchangeable these days. "Did she tell you? Why she lied?"

"Some of it. Not the whole story."

"Do you believe her?"

"It might not be what you want to hear, but yes. Martha might not have always been the best mother to you but she has always loved you. She has always done what's best for you. Maybe in the wrong ways, but it was never malicious. It was never meant to deceive you. It was never some production to make her a better actress or you a better writer as much as you want to believe that. Castle, we see every day the screwed up things that people do for love. Lies people tell, secrets people keep. You once told me that sometimes people do the wrong things for the right reasons. That's what your mother was doing."

The rain has started; quiet drops that slip into the sand feet away from them. It smells fresh and despite the fact that it hurts to breathe, he inhales, taking the newness with him. There's so much pounding in his veins right now, coursing through him, making him someone different and new and he needs something familiar, something to hold onto. He rests his hand over Kate's jean clad thigh and her head is on his shoulder and he's grateful that she's stayed despite his wishes, that she knows him as well as he does her.

"I met him," he finally speaks.

"I thought-"

"When I was sixteen. I was writing a lot and Woods was holding a seminar in the city. I had seen a couple of his plays, I liked him, I admired his success. Damian and I took the train in and we met him afterward. I didn't feel anything. There was no connection. He's my father and it didn't feel…_different._"

"It's not one of your books or the movies. Connections aren't instant, they're not automatic."

"It was for me with you."

"No, it wasn't."

"You can say it was lust all you want but-"

Kate lifts her head. "We met before that night at your book party."

"What?"

"I was at one of your signings long before I brought you in to the precinct. I came up to you, handed you a book, you signed it and that was it. There was no connection."

_One more lie. One more lie. One. More. Lie._

It burns through his brain, igniting another wildfire.

"How have you never told me that?"

"Because you wouldn't have remembered and I wouldn't expect you to. It's my memory, Castle, and I love knowing that there's a past to us even before we began. You want to know why I went to that signing? I wanted to say thank you. You taught me to think outside the box, you helped me get lost in something when all I wanted was to forget. You helped me get through the hardest time in my life by your words alone. All I'm trying to say is that a chance meeting doesn't determine the future. I never thought I'd fall in love with you, I never thought I'd know you at all but you were still a presence in my life. Woods did that for you. He inspired you. That's more than a lot of fathers do." She runs her fingers over his facial hair. "If I could change this for you, Rick, I would but we all have our crosses to bear. This is just yours now."

"What if it changes who I am?"

"It might. You might react to things differently. You might even grow up a little bit. You're still you though, down to the core. You're still the man who will play Guitar Hero at six in the morning when he can't sleep. You're still the man who loves his daughter more than anything in this world. You're still the man who would do absolutely anything for his family. I'm just asking you to talk to her. For your sake, for Alexis'."

"Not tonight."

"Sunday. Two days to finish wallowing, to shave and shower because, Castle, you need it."

He presses his lips to her forehead. "I've showered."

"Barely. It's late, but if you want me to head out in the morning I'll give you the rest of the weekend. If you don't come back by Sunday night though, I'll drag your ass back to the city kicking and screaming."

"Stay. I miss you."

Kate smiles. "Okay, but you're shaving tonight. You look like you've been stuck in the mountains for a decade. I like the five o'clock shadow, Castle. This is a little much."

"Deal."

Her head is back on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around her waist. The ache is still inside of him but for the first time all week, he feels somewhat assured. They sit there with nothing but the crashing waves and rain, lost memories unspoken. It's minutes later that she speaks, and there's so much love in her voice that if this wasn't one of the worst times in his life he'd want to stay with her out here forever.

"For the record, I don't remember the exact moment I fell in love with you. It wasn't a moment of clarity or a light bulb that went off or a single second that changed everything. I do remember when I first realized it, though."

"When?"

"That case after you came back from the Hamptons a few years ago. I didn't expect it to hurt so much but it did and I needed some sort of solid ground back. I needed to remember how to live without your presence in my life. We made that bet. If you solved the case before me, you'd stay. If I solved it, you'd leave."

He thinks about what she's saying, his fingers tangling knots into her hair. "You let me win?"

"Did you really think I couldn't figure it out? I'm a good detective, Castle. I just...I knew you would honor my wishes if I won and the idea of not seeing you again, of not working with you, it was worse than seeing you with Gina. So there. Now you know."

Castle's entire body settles. "Thank you."

It's a cliché answer, it's not needed now that she can say the words, but she looks up at him, lips quirked. "Always."


	7. Chapter 7

vii. July, 2013

In so many ways it's as if she's lived here - with him - forever.

Kate had long ago memorized the layout of the loft, the sleek corners and dark furniture that looked almost majestic in the shadows of fire. She knew of the step that creaked if hit the wrong way, the feeling of the white soft carpet in the living room under her feet, his shelved books all perfectly lined up with each other.

However, it's the new things she's discovered in the past four months that make it seem like this is where she's always been. The clattering of pans as he makes breakfast every Saturday if she's home, the whispered taps of his keyboard when he's writing in the next room, the fact that their bedroom no longer smells like his musky scent but instead of her candles: country apple, cherry blossom, vanilla when she's in the mood.

Tonight, in the dead of summer, the country apple burns, flickering undulating shapes across the wine glass that sits on her nightstand. The central air hums overhead and it was discovered on a late night in early June that the rumbling sound alone caused the goosebumps to dot her skin. The next day she had come home from work, a wrapped blanket on the edge of their bed with a note scrawled in his handwriting. _Having dinner with Alexis and my mother at her new place. Baby steps, right? Come, if you're not too tired. If you are, stay warm. Love you. _

It's now hers, the cozy beige chenille that usually remains cloaked around her long into the night. Kate pulls her knees up to her chest, the blanket around her securely as the script in her lap slides down her legs. Castle is beside her, on his computer, and they've become so _domestic _that sometimes it makes her want to laugh. It was not what she expected when she met him (at the precinct and especially at that book signing another lifetime ago) and she loves this notion that the biggest, unexpected surprises in life aren't always the result of tragedy like she once believed.

Castle runs his fingers down her arm and she lifts her head to look at him. The computer is angled in her direction, a Chihuahua on the main page. Female. Five pounds. Is he kidding?

"What about this one?"

"Five pounds? You and I are not the kind of people who would have a five pound dog. I thought we wanted something bigger?"

"We do, but look at her little face! Plus, I'm hoping that we can eventually get her to bark something that sounds even remotely close to yo quiero Taco Bell."

Kate lifts an eyebrow with amusement. "And by we I assume you mean you?"

"Naturally."

"Keep looking." She picks up the glass of wine on the table, the crimson liquid warming her stomach as she settles back against the pillows, script in hand. She finds her place, scrunching her nose as she finishes her page, moving onto the next. "Castle, this script is-"

"Horrible, right? Did you get to the part where Nikki breaks a guy's neck with her thighs? I'm not saying I wouldn't love watching you do that but it's a little like a bad Steven Seagal movie."

"Is there such thing as a good Steven Seagal movie?"

"Touché."

"I know you." She rests her back against his shoulder, feels the way his arm wraps around her, protecting her. He reaches for her drink, their fingers gently brushing. "There's no way you're going to let this get made."

"Paula's setting something up in a couple of weeks so I can meet with the screenwriter. They should just let me write it."

"Do you even know how to write a movie?" she asks skeptically.

"I happen to know screenplay structure, yes."

"How?"

He shrugs, handing her back the glass. "I just do."

"Castle."

The debate crosses his features on whether or not to be honest and he sighs in exasperation. Either because he wants to tell her but needs the dramatic flair or he knows she'll get it out of him eventually so he might as well give in now. "Fine. I was _possibly_ being cocky one night with Patterson, Lehane and Cannell about _Heat Wave_becoming a movie-"

Kate holds up her hand to stop him. "You were being cocky with three men who have had successful TV shows and films based off their books? Oh, Castle, come on. You must have expected some sort of retaliation from that."

"Hey, would it kill you to defend me for once?"

"I do defend you when you're right. I just don't think you were here."

"For the record Cannell never had one of his books turned into a movie."

"No, he only created _21 Jump Street_ and _Silk Stalkings _and how many other series?"

"I should really go look for a more supportive girlfriend," Castle jokes. He turns the computer to her again. "What about this one? Two year old black lab named Midnight. Seventy-five pounds. The name is a little cliché but we can work on that. I'm thinking Dark Knight or Batman or-"

"For future reference, you're not naming our kid."

"It's not like I'm going to name a _child _that." Castle's eyes light up and he nearly bounces on the bed, a little boy who is finally getting everything he asked for. "Oh but how about Bruce Wayne Castle! Oh my God, Beckett, how awesome is that?"

She can't help but think she's going to end up with the Justice League as her children, maybe the Avengers if that's what he's feeling. Iron Man. Thor. Hulk. Children who will somehow believe they have superpowers because their father is obsessed. And really, she _shouldn't _be thinking about this at the moment but now all she can see is capes and masks and so _so_much eye rolling.

"Somehow naming a child after Alexis Carrington doesn't seem so bad."

"Bruce Wayne saves lives. Alexis Carrington throws people in pools."

She smirks; he was right in what he said to her a while back. His DVR would make _anyone's _look like Masterpiece Theater. "Big fan of _Dynasty_?"

"Please, Beckett. I have a little more self-respect than that. I preferred _Dallas,_" he mumbles.

"The Ewings also pushed people into pools."

"I love this secret soap opera obsession you have! What else did you watch? _Days of our Lives? One Life to Live? Melrose Place? _Should I clear some space on the DVR for a little _Gossip Girl?"_

"Don't you record that anyway?" Kate goads. "And it's not an obsession! At least not mine. My mother's weakness was soaps. Nighttime, daytime, it didn't matter. I'd watch _Dallas _every once in a while with her."

"Were you even alive when it started? You make me feel old."

She presses her mouth to his. "You are old."

Castle slides a hand through her hair, pulling it lightly between the crevices of his fingers. He captures her in a kiss again, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth. "Definitely going on the hunt for a new girlfriend," he mutters.

"Want me to help you look?"

"Kinky."

Kate laughs, goes back to reading the stilted dialogue on the page, the ridiculous portrayal of the characters he so effortlessly created for them. "How would you do it?" she asks, looking up at him.

"Do what?"

"Write this. What would you change?"

Castle grabs it from her, leafing through it. He grunts in obvious dislike, pointing to what she's managed to somehow skip, an entire story taken on a new journey. "Well for one Nikki wouldn't sleep with her sparring partner because she's pissed off Rook has been MIA. She loves Rook; she's not going to get laid to get laid."

"I appreciate you being so indignant on my behalf."

"Remember when you used to insist you weren't Nikki?"

"I also used to insist I didn't have feelings for you."

"You lied."

"I..." She pauses, searching for the right words. "Diverted attention away from things I didn't want to discuss."

"We'd make a good movie, you know. We had that whole will they, won't they thing down."

"We were always will they, Castle. It just took some time."

"A lot of time," he rouses. "It was four years and there were other lovers-"

She cringes; there's something about that word that says bad romance novels, cheesy television dialogue. Then again, maybe it's perfect for the moment, for them. "Please don't say lovers."

"Fine, _suitors._"

"You're calling your women suitors?"

"One woman!"

"What about _Jacinda?"_

Castle's brow furrows. "Who?"

"First class flight attendant." Kate rolls her eyes again and she's not even sure why she's mentioning it now, why it matters. "Cracked our case wide open with her superior knowledge of plane cargo."

"Oh, right. Huh. You remember her name?"

"Memories."

"I suddenly have Barbra Streisand in my head."

"Write it for me."

"_Heat Rises_?"

"No, us. I want to hear your outlandish version of it."

Castle jumps off the bed, an unexpected whirlwind of activity leaving her surprised and blinking in his wake. His feet pound the wooden floors until he reaches the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing and she doesn't even try to venture a guess as to what he's up to. Not when he's Castle and for as well as she knows him, she still manages to be amazed at all the new, ridiculous things he can come up with.

The fan of his computer reminds her of their search and she tilts the screen in her direction. The black lab on screen stares back her, tongue out, beautiful, sweet.

"I want to see Midnight tomorrow," she says when she hears him walking back into the room.

"Comes around every twenty-four hours."

Kate glares at him before noticing what's in his hand. "Icing pens?"

"I bought them after you mentioned that Nikki would use them on Rook. Take off your shirt."

She barks out an unexpected laugh. "Excuse me?"

"What? It's not like I haven't seen you naked before."

She considers arguing; she does. But she had asked for this – both with the description of their lives and being in a relationship with him – this wild and crazy side that if she was being honest with herself, she would do anything for.

The blanket untangles around her and she can feel the small bumps cascading down her arms and legs with the blast of air that hits her skin. She lifts her shirt over her head, watching him watch her, his eyes turning a darker shade of blue. She lies back on the mattress, hands behind head, widening the distance between her legs.

Castle kneels onto the bed, uncapping a blue pen. He leans over her, legs between hers, and she can smell a faint trace of his cologne, the slightest whiff of his shampoo. His warm breath hits her skin as he begins to draw, a solid line starting from her clavicle down past her belly button. His hands touch her skin, slide off her pants until she's in nothing but her underwear. She's flushed, chilled, wanting and he's looking at her with so much _desire _that whatever game they're about to play seems almost pointless.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

He closes his eyes for a second, tapping into his imagination as his hands roam freely over her body, somehow missing the icing he's dripped onto her. She loves watching him touch her, how after a year he knows each dip and curve of her, the exact spot of her scars. It no longer makes her cringe when he touches her there, not when his fingers treat her marrings like a work of art.

"There's an establishing shot over Manhattan," Castle begins, his voice in storytelling mode. "It's early morning, the sun rising brilliantly over the Hudson. We catch glimpses of Central Park, Times Square, the pace of the city, until we're outside of a loft. We're lead into an office where a ruggedly handsome writer-"

Kate lifts her head, balancing herself on her elbows. "Wait, why are you the protagonist?"

"If this was a movie, it would be called Castle," he responds matter-of-factly.

"What? No one would watch that!"

"It's a homonym! Like _House_. It's not _about _a house. Or _Grey's Anatomy_, which is like the book but conveniently spelled different-_"_

"I know what a homonym is, Castle. I just don't understand why you think this has to be one."

"Can I just tell my story?"

She gestures for him to continue, smiling at the frenzy she can work him into with her words alone (and truthfully, most of the time she does it, it's to mess with him, to watch the righteous indignation pass across his features like it's the end of the world.)

"Our ruggedly handsome writer sits, wasting away, a lost soul if you will. We establish his life. His incredibly smart fifteen year old daughter, his piece of work mother. If he's honest with himself – and he's not so early on, believe me – he's terrified he'll never write again and that the recent killing of his most prized character is the biggest mistake of his career. It's haunting him. It stunts any progress he tries to make on a new novel. So he waits. He sits in front of the TV hoping for inspiration that never comes. He drinks, he bets on the ponies at Belmont. Days pass until we come to the night of his book party for the final chapter of the Derrick Storm series. The weather's crisp but beautiful-"

"Are you writing a movie or a romance novel, Ms. St. Clair?"

"Do I rush you when we're doing your job?"

"Yes."

"Okay, that's not the point. It's an art, Beckett. You have to set the mood."

Kate gives him a smile, running her heel over his ass. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"It's a night to remember. Our dear, sexy, very sexy writer-" Kate rolls her eyes as he continues, "doesn't want to be there. Oh, he loves the attention but it's all a little too predictable, there's nothing there to surprise him. And that's when we get to our inciting incident. The moment in the movie when everything gets thrown onto its side, where life as we know it will never be the same."

He takes the pen off the nightstand, pressing it down between her cleavage as he begins to write. His finger brushes over her peaked nipple and she arches her hips, gasping at the feel of him, the heated icing.

"In walks a gorgeous, intimidating cop with legs on her that are miles and miles long. His books are being used as inspiration for murders and it's the most excitement – albeit a little morbid – that he's seen in ages. Hot Cop drags him down to her precinct-"

"Hot cop? Really, Castle? And I didn't _drag _you anywhere-"

"Stop interrupting, Kate, or else there will be none of this..." He licks the top of the timeline, a swirling pattern that makes her ache as his fingers trail down her body until he reaches the crux of her, moving her underwear to the side. She's already wet for him and she closes her eyes as he pushes her apart, fingers dancing along her need. "Or this."

It's not often she's willing to relinquish her control to him but she finds herself nodding in acquiescence.

"She _drags _him into her interrogation room where she looks at him like she wants to throw him down on the table and do a number of naughty things to him-"

"You know this isn't how it happened, right?" she finds herself saying but he doesn't fight her this time, merely shrugs.

"I'm taking creative liberties on some details. Aside from wanting to do dirty things to the writer, there's this look in her eyes when she's questioning him like she knows him from somewhere. Perhaps from a book signing she attended-" She kicks him gently. "Ow! Fine. To make a long story short, our writer uses his friendship with the mayor to work this case. There's a story there; all he has to do is find it."

She's been with him for too long because she wants to ask questions, to know details that she's spent the last five years living. "Does he?"

"Not where he expects."

He's all over her again, hands drifting over her soft skin. Castle kisses a trail down her neck, breathes air onto what he's leaving in his wake and it's taking all self control not to turn the tables on him, to finish this in her own words, to finish _him._

"He thinks the murder is going to inspire him," he continues, "but it's her. The cop with her secrets untold, the light in her eyes that dims the moment she steps under the tape at a crime scene. It's in her determination, the way she says his name with a hint of aggravation and curiosity."

She lifts herself up halfway, kissing him. He tastes of sugar, sweet and perfect.

"It's on the afternoon that they close their case, the sun hours from lowering, when she bites her lip and tells him that it would have been great between them. He can smell the faint hint of cherries on her as she leans into him, the scent lingering as she walks away." Castle stares at her, through her, the raw honesty of his words making her heart constrict. "And that… that was the start of it all."

"I didn't bite my lip," she whispers.

"You did and that moment alone inspired me to write. You were so unbelievably sexy in that moment, Kate. You were the first person who turned me down in a long time; the first person who challenged me in years and if I never told you, I'm so grateful for that."

The change in his tone surprises her, all soft and smooth like nothing else has been more true. She runs her fingers through the short strands of his hair.

"What happens next?"

He grins down at her. "Our dynamic duo starts working together even when the gorgeous detective pretends she can't stand our protagonist but due to Castle's absolutely undeniable charm-" He stops, considering. "Is it weird to be talking about us in the third person?"

"You can't stop now. I want to know the rest."

"I knew you'd give into my script telling ways."

"Don't ruin in the moment, Castle."

"Beckett slowly finds herself appreciating Castle's company. He's an asset. With his delightful disposition, he begins to draw the personality out of the detective. She was a moth to his flame, the Rose to his Jack-"

"Did you just compare us to _Titanic_?"

"Well I like to think you'd let me on that very large door if we were ever in risk of drowning, but yes, there is a certain dramatic love story to them that I can really appreciate. Does it matter this story structure is missing the big things like antagonists and an actual plot-"

"I'm not asking for a masterful murder mystery. I live that daily. Tell me about us."

"Even the bad?"

There are times when she forgets that they weren't always easy, that for the years before they got together there had been heartache, lies, trauma. She reaches up to touch the five o'clock shadow on his face, the stubble rough yet comforting under her palm. "Let's see?"

Castle leans into her caress, nods. "Kate starts to tell him things…things from her past that she wants to forget but never can and the more he learns, the more his feelings for her change. She's…extraordinary in ways that he will never be able to capture no matter how many adjectives he tries to use. He sees what her past has done to her, how it haunts her. He wants to give her a peace that he knows she's on a quest to find."

The pen hits her skin again as he starts to write, the gentle strokes causing her eyes to flutter closed. His voice fills the room, her head, her heart.

"That would be our plot point one. The turning point at the end of the first act where something radically changes our protagonist's life. For our writer, it is the first time he's ever realized there are consequences to his actions. He can't buy his way out of this. He can't write another ending. All he can do is apologize and hope that this woman he's falling for in ways he never expected will forgive him."

His tongue is on her chest again, erasing the mistakes, the flaws of their past. She moans, softly, unburdened, and opens her eyes, braces her fingers under his chin until she can see him. Her heart clenches and she thinks she's never been more in love with him as she is in this moment, reliving all they've been through.

"It might have been the most heartfelt apology she's ever been given," and it almost surprises her that she's responded in third person. "It changed something in her; he started to change things in her."

"I thought this was my movie," Castle teases.

"Any piece of literature or film can have another protagonist when told from someone else's point of view. Another story, another outlook."

"Sometimes I think you would have made an incredible writer," he says with pride.

"Sometimes I think you would have made an incredible cop."

"I _am _an incredible cop."

"You're a great _civilian investigator _who I'm still not going to let run around with a gun and who probably should have gone through some type of training by now."

"Nah, I'm good. Are you writing this with me?"

"Not right now. Tell me what happens next."

"Their bond begins to grow after that. There is flirting and phenomenal wit where he is reminded again and again how amazingly smart Detective Beckett is. She's becoming a part of his life in such a way that is unforced, more like she has been there forever."

It reminds her of his apartment, of how easily their lives have become interchangeable, of how he wrote their story for characters before it was even theirs like a glimpse of the future.

"Over time he starts to notice things about her; the way she twirls her hair when she's nervous or the way she ducks her head and smiles like she has all these hidden pieces to her that are waiting to be discovered. He wants to uncover her, to unravel this mystery of this woman who's been brought into his life." Castle threads his fingers through her hair, lost in thought. "There's this case and it's...it's personal for Beckett." He stumbles. "We can skip over it-"

_Dick Coonan. Her mother._

The beginning of what she once thought was the end.

She inhales a breath. "I'm not gonna break, Castle. You can say it."

"I just...You're not wearing any clothes and it seems _weird _to discuss that_-_"

"Fair point," she cuts off. "We can move on."

"During that particular case, his heart breaks for her. Not out of pity, but because he can't save her; he can't change the course of a life like he does so easily in his novels. He comes to her that night in the precinct armed with takeout from everywhere he can think of-"

"Reminds me of what Rook does for Nikki in _Heat Rises_," she murmurs.

"Art imitates life," and she knows he means that in so many more ways than takeout. "He's going to walk away. It's selfish of him to still be there, wreaking havoc on her life like he does on a daily basis. The regret lives inside of him and he can't do this to her anymore."

"But she tells him to stay," Kate answers, remembering it in such vivid details. The way he made her smile when she truly believed nothing would again, the guilt he wore like a badge of shame, the sinking realization that she could lose him. "That she's gotten used to him, what was it?"

Castle smiles, tugs gently on her hair. "Pulling her pigtails."

"Right. The truth is, before him, she didn't remember what it was to be happy. Even during that case, he reminded her."

Castle leans down, tongue parting her lips. She braces her hands on his neck and pulls him on top of her. She can feel his arousal against her stomach, swallows the moans he gives her when her hips raise slightly.

"Let me finish first," he whispers against the shell of her ear when their kiss breaks. His laughter vibrates against her, warms all of her. "And no, I do not mean that as a double entendre."

"You must be growing."

He groans, shifting uncomfortably. "You have no idea. Hey, was that-"

"Intentional? Yes." She slides his pajama bottoms over his ass. "Keep going."

"No touching." Castle swats her hand away from him. "Not yet."

"So demanding."

"Soon, I promise." He takes in an unstable breath. "It wouldn't be a procedural film without some sort of madman on the loose. He starts calling into the precinct for Nikki Heat. He wants her, or the real version of her, and Castle comes to Beckett's apartment to protect her. He spends the night where many people - including, well everyone - assume they have slept together. If only they knew of the slow, slow burn of their tumultuous relationship. With the help of a very helpful FBI agent-"

"The return of Jordan Shaw."

Castle grins. "The case seems settled. Until it's not and Castle realizes that their killer isn't dead. He rushes to Beckett's aid, through the streets like a superhero, calling and calling with no response until the last possible second but it's too late. He watches her apartment building explode. Smoke, fire, shards of glass raining onto the street like a nightmare. And this is the midpoint of our movie, the point of no return."

She's almost forgotten about the icing, the structured story he's telling. The devotion in his tone has turned from lust to love, a melancholy beat on each syllable he speaks.

"He thinks he's lost her. Out there on the street, the flames licking the skyline, he can swear she is dead. His heart stops. It might not be love in that moment, but it's something. It's enough to know that he can't walk away, that it's no longer about the story. He's different after that, more protective and truthfully, it scares him more than he ever expected."

"Why?"

She knows he's about to switch to the first person by the look in his eyes, the way his hand has settled over the beating of her heart. "Because I hadn't felt that way about someone in a long time and the last time I did, it didn't end well."

He's talking about Kyra, about the only loss of true love he's ever discussed with her, the only true love she thinks he's ever lost.

"Castle knows he should say something, tell Beckett how he feels, but it's not the right time so he remains quiet, pining away for her."

"You're so dramatic," Kate teases, to lighten the mood, to remember that their past is just that. Fragmented, pensive, over.

"It's a movie, Beckett. It's _supposed _to be dramatic. Anyway, it backfires on him of course because soon Detective Beckett finds herself in a relationship with another cop. Shlemming is it?"

"Now, now, _Rook. _Be nice."

"Can I tell you how sexy it is that you just called me Rook?"

"Finish the story, Castle."

"Mistakes are soon made. Jealousy turns into determination for our protagonist. When he's at risk to lose her, he must fight to the death. Or at least with an offer to go to a gorgeous house in the Hamptons for Memorial Day."

For everything she's been willing to relive tonight, this isn't one of them. The heartache of seeing him with Gina, the end of her relationship with Demming, the start of her time with Josh. It's another lifetime ago, complications that seem fabricated for a movie.

"I think we can skip over this part in our relationship."

"Your call, Detective. Where does our journey pick up?"

She thinks about all that came after: Royce; the Triple Killer, motel rooms, the fear of loss; strip clubs, alien life, the purchase of a bar. The presence of Natalie Rhodes, a kiss to save the lives of their own, a freezer where she had come so close to professing what she truly felt for him. A hotel room three thousand miles away from home.

"Los Angeles," Kate answers softly.

"The place of desperate dreamers and lost souls," he starts without missing a beat. "Where hotel suites are plastered with famous people no longer with us and an all-day soiree at the pool is all there is to do. One night - wine glasses at their disposal, a _feel _to the air - the two sit in their hotel room. In a moment of uninhibited emotion, Kate divulges something about her past. She's an enigma that he wants to spend the rest of his life trying to figure out. The way she looks at him on that couch, he feels it, senses something in her that makes him grateful that he's never given up the fight to stand by her side. That maybe, one day, she'll come around to him. It's in Los Angeles that he almost tells her he's in love with her."

She covers the hand over her heart with her own. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you did?"

"It wasn't the right time."

The irony of the statement burns through the room; that the first time he uttered those words to her was when she was lying on the cold, wet ground. Dying.

It's as if he's reading her mind when he says, "Which brings us to our lowpoint."

"I know I wanted you to write us, but I can't...not that."

Castle bends down, presses his lips over the scar between her breasts. "It's a part of us, Kate. You can't change it."

"I'm not asking to change it. I just don't want to relive it."

"Okay," he agrees, but she knows he's thinking about it, the shadows behind his eyes dark with regret.

"I love you," she says with enough conviction that the cobwebs clear, a smile lifting his lips.

"I love you too."

"What's next? Something uplifting I hope?"

"Funny that you mention _uplifting_. Next up, we have our climax. And it seems..." He lets his sentence trail off as he gets off the bed. He walks to the edge, pulling Kate's legs so she's half on the mattress, half off. He's kneeling between her, fingers tracing patterns over her thighs as his tongue darts out to taste her. She gasps, the chenille gripped between her fingers. "We've run out of room."

She huffs out a laugh. "You were hoping for this, weren't you? To make this literal."

"It does seem rather fitting, doesn't it?" He pries apart her folds with two of his fingers, caressing her slowly. He's lethargic, teasing. She hooks each leg over both of his shoulders, opening to him. "There's a lot of story still left to tell." His voices lulls her as her eyes flutter closed. "The year spent hiding the truth, the fights, the moment you asked me back to your apartment and we _finally _let this begin." Sweat breaks across her skin as he slides two fingers deep inside of her, moving swiftly, up, down, around and she loses her breath. "But all that really matters, Kate, is this. That we're here."

Castle releases his fingers and she can feel her arousal on her thighs, the sheer desperation of how much she needs him. He pushes her legs further apart, running his tongue along the length of her with a methodical precision. It's too much and not enough as it so often is with him and she lifts her hips because she needs him to take all of her. Her hand drifts up to her breast and she rolls her nipple between her fingers, the sensation making her moan out his name again and again and _again_. Her body hums and she's so close to the edge with his tongue dipping into her, the way his hands continue to touch her in places only he knows drive her insane. And then he's finding the perfect angle on her clit, gently sucking and _shit_, this is what she lives for now because he's _so _good at knowing her.

"Castle," she begs, "now."

His tongue works feverishly, the dizziness overwhelming as she shatters against his mouth. He rests his head against her leg as she rides out her orgasm, hands still roaming her body and she'd gladly give up anything to spend the rest of her life like this. She remains still for seconds until she unhooks her legs from him, pulling him up. She pushes herself back on the bed, taking him with her. He's hard, straining against the pajama bottoms that he'd lifted back up earlier. She hooks her fingers in the waistband, lowering them, and takes him in her hand. Castle's eyes slam shut, a hiss snaking through his teeth.

Kate rubs him through her slickness, poised at her entrance. She angles her hips until he's inside of her, and the friction alone nearly has them both gone. She bites at his bottom lip, tastes the sweet of the icing, the saltiness of her. "Teach me about the climax again."


	8. Chapter 8

I'm so sorry this took a while to post; time got away from me. Second to last chapter, and as always, reviews are love (and very much appreciated.)

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><p>viii. September, 2013<p>

No matter how many times he'd scrubbed, he can still feel the blood caked onto his skin.

It had been sticky and hot, dark like copper fading to a pinkish hue as it swirled down the shower drain. He had almost forgotten the smell of it, the way it would always remind him of Kate in all the worst ways possible. He had stood in the shower for what felt like hours, his head against the slippery tile, breathing. The memories came at him with alarming speed: the moment Raglan was shot and he thought it had been her; how in that moment he knew no matter what, he would always love her. The cemetery when it _was_her; the widening of her eyes as she bled out, the I love you that slipped from his lips filled with desolation and fear. Earlier today when he had heard the gunshot and immediately panicked thinking he was losing her again only to watch Ryan go down in what seemed like slow motion. Castle had covered the bullet wound, the crevices of his fingers filling with a red so much darker than he ever recalls.

It was a whirlwind and flashes from there: sirens, ambulances, surgery, affirmation that Ryan was going to be fine, the almost stoic look on Kate's face from the time she arrived at the hospital to the moment they got home. She had been quiet and composed as she comforted Jenny, asked Castle questions about exactly what happened so she could report back to Gates. He should have expected the professionalism from her, but he saw the fear behind her eyes, the almost unnoticeable tremor in her hands. She had told him to shower when they got back to the loft and he had obliged because it was too much, all of it, and he knew better to argue with her when she was like this.

Now, as Castle stands at the door to the roof, he watches her against the blackened sky. She's a still silhouette, curves and shapes that don't dare to breathe. Her arms are crossed and despite the cold she doesn't shiver and it scares the shit out of him to watch her like this, feels it so deep in his gut that he almost can't breathe. He walks toward her, his bare feet shuffling quietly around the shrubs and flowers of the rooftop garden. He wraps his arms around her waist, his chin to her shoulder as she presses against his chest. She smells comforting and familiar and he inhales, watching the goosebumps form on her neck on his exhale.

"Jenny just called," Castle says, quietly. "Ryan's awake. Out of it, babbling incoherent nonsense from the painkillers, but he's okay." Kate nods, and he notices the way her fingers squeeze her upper arms, bracing. He can't see the white indentations but he knows they're there, stopping the blood flow, testing the limits. "I fed Justice. He'll need to go out in a little while, but..." He stops when he feels her trembling, kisses her shoulder. "Kate, talk to me."

"Castle, I'm fine. It's been a long day." It's the first words she's spoken in hours and her voice is filled with cracked lilts. "I can take the dog if you want to go to bed."

Sleep isn't in the cards tonight, not when he sees her dying in front of him when he closes his eyes, remembers the way Ryan's face had contorted in pain as the bullet became a part of him. "I don't mind. Come with me?"

"Yeah, in a few."

They stand there in relative silence; nothing but their breathing, the sheer determination Kate is using to stop herself from letting the tears win. He watches the stoplight a few feet below, counts the seconds it takes to change from green to yellow. Yellow to red. Red to green. There's a chill in the air and he thinks that it's going to rain soon, about how it'll wash away Ryan's blood that still stains the pavement on a side street downtown. He's overwhelmed, and it's on nights like these that he hates her job, hates that the people closest to him (aside from his mother and daughter) do this daily.

"I love you, Kate."

She spins around, startling him as she pushes him against the greenhouse behind them. He slams against it, the walls rattling and then she's all teeth and tongue, her hands underneath his t-shirt, nails scraping across his chest. Her body is flush against his and he should stop her because she's not okay, because _he's_ not okay and they should talk about this but he needs her, all of her and talking can, _will_ come later. His hands are fisted in her hair, tilting her head back, and his tongue is in her mouth, sliding against hers, fast and harsh and so very very frenzied. He flicks the button on her jeans free and she steps out of them, her underwear following and he's already two fingers deep before she's managed to kick them aside. She doesn't cry out, instead clamps her teeth into his shoulder, pressing her nails into his back, as he works her with maddening speed. Her free hand fumbles at the waist of his pajama bottoms, sliding them over the curve of his ass. She takes him in her hand, massaging from base to tip and he groans, sliding his fingers out of her. They're sticky and hot and he blinks because he will not think about blood right now, about the similarities and _fuck_, he needs to be inside of her so the images stop coming. He slams his hips against hers with so much force that she moans, low and keening. Kate arches up on her toes, higher and higher until he's so deep inside of her that this is nearly over before it begins.

Castle's hand slides down her warm stomach, palm pressed against her clit and she shudders against him, hips swiveling in rhythm with his. She's riding his hand, her tongue sliding around the curve of his ear, whispering his name, a chant, a plea. Her fingers find his over the crux of her and she's working herself with him and it's all constant movement and so much friction and he kisses her again, nearly on the cusp of letting it all fall away. The night is nothing but black in his peripheral version as he slides out of her, thrusting back in as she gasps, knees buckling.

Her lips are at his ear, and she's pressing down on their hands. "Marry me," she whispers and he thinks it's an illusion or the wind as she trembles, breaking apart around his fingers, shattering around him. He's right behind her, dizzy, out of breath and he pulls out of her, sinking to the ground. He pulls up his pants with as much energy as he can muster, taking her with him. She sits on his thigh, legs spread across his side, as she breathes. "Marry me, Castle." And it's no illusion, no gust of wind. For the first time since returning home, she faces him, eyes open and pooling with unshed tears. "Marry me."

A tear rolls down Kate's cheek and he brushes his thumb over it, chest clenching. "No," he answers and she stiffens in his arm. "Not like this, Kate." Castle presses his forehead to hers, tastes the salt on the corner of his mouth. "Not tonight." He kisses the tip of her nose, her soft, pliable lips. "I know how you feel. I know that all of a sudden you think you need to make every moment count. I told you I loved you because I was scared to death of losing you and that shouldn't have been the first time you heard that from me. Not when I had felt it for months before that. I want to marry you. I will ask you when the time is right in some huge spectacle that'll embarrass the hell out of you. But this isn't going to be our story, our reasoning."

"The time _is _right, Castle. We wasted four years that we could have been together on things that we were too scared to face. We've been dating for over a year. What are we waiting for?"

"You know I am going to ask you, you know I want to marry you, you know I want kids with you. But it took you six months to tell me you loved me. Six months, Kate. I've been married twice before. I know this is going to last, _you _know this is going to last. We don't need to rush an engagement or a wedding. I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't know that."

He kisses her, soft and tender. "You're right. I don't know the future. But I do know that being married isn't going to change anything. It won't make it hurt less if something happened to one of us tomorrow or thirty years from tomorrow. If I say yes to you now, you're always going to remember that you proposed to me because you were scared. I'm not letting you win this one."

"It could have been you out there today. If I had lost you..." She trails off, her breath hitching. "I can't...I can't believe I've let you out there with me every day and I never thought..."

"Hey, Kate, I'm fine. I'm right here."

"You were lucky."

"So are you every time you get out there and chase down a suspect."

Kate rests her head in the curve of his neck, hot breaths washing over his skin, and he wraps his arms tightly around her. "It could have been you, Castle," she repeats.

"I know." His hands twist in her hair again, and there's something about the cool breeze and smell of Irises that make him want to sit up here forever. "I'll cut back my hours since we have Justice now." It's meant to make her feel better and he feels the way her body deflates against him, an all-out battle between head and heart. "Or I can bring the dog with me. I'll rename him to Sherlock and we can fight crime!"

"It's hard enough keeping you on your leash at work," Kate teases. She leans back so she's looking at him, her fingers running along his cheek, gentle and tender like she's testing the waters to make sure he's real. "There's a part of me that wants you to stay home with Justice where I know you're safe and a part of me that doesn't know how to do my job without you anymore."

"You can interrogate without me-"

"I'm well aware of that, Castle. I'm talking about you sitting in that god awful chair making comments that annoy the hell out of me sometimes or bringing me coffee when I've been stuck there all night and you've gone home. You still make my job easier, even after all this time. As much as I think you're better off here, I don't...I'll miss you there."

"For the record, I said I would cut back not leave entirely. You'd be so lost without me."

She takes the comment for what it's worth, not the implications of what could have been. "I'd manage."

"You still can't use the espresso machine."

"I can use it if I wanted to. I just...don't."

"Right, Beckett. You don't _want _to."

"Castle, shut up."

He lets a smile pass across his lips, fleeting as it may be. He rests his head against the cool glass. It's on nights like these that he misses the Hamptons, the starry velvet sky shimmering above him, miles of ocean and wide open spaces. "It wasn't a waste, by the way."

"What?"

"You said we wasted four years. It wasn't a waste. If we had gotten together that first or second year, it would have been a fling. It would have been hot and heavy and then we would have ended up hating each other because neither of us were ready for this kind of commitment. I'd now be writing some heroine that's a poor imitation of Nikki Heat and you'd actually have to get a real partner who can legally carry a gun and wouldn't be nearly as awesome as me." He can feel the way her lips curve upwards against his neck and for the moment it's enough. "We'll get there, Kate. Just not tonight."

"Okay."

From the floor below the dog starts barking and he groans, his arms loosening from around Kate. "He needs to go out."

"I can take him. You should get some sleep."

Kate stands, reaching her hand out to him. She tugs him up, but instead of walking away she steps into his arms, folding into his chest. She fits so perfectly against him and it all comes rushing back to him: the near misses, the blood, the memories of things that he'll never forget no matter how hard he tries. It scares him how much he loves her sometimes, this intense deep need that's in his veins, in each breath he takes. She's answering him, something about a walk sounding nice, that sleep will come later and he pulls her back so he can see her. There's light filtering back into her eyes, and he kisses her forehead, lips lingering and feather light.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"You proposed. The old Kate Beckett would have run away from this, not further into it."

She looks up at him, lips quirked. "Yeah, well, I'm not going anywhere either, Castle."

They stare at each other for a minute, unspoken promises filling the space around them. He slides his fingers between hers. "Before we go back down, I need to know you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"Kate-"

"Castle, really. I freaked out. I got scared and I panicked. But Ryan's going to be okay and come tomorrow, it'll suck a lot less than it does now. I promise, I'm fine." There's another bark and she turns, their hands still twined. "Justice, on the other hand, might not be unless we get him outside."

"Can't we get him puppy pee pads?"

"He's two and almost eighty pounds. I don't quite think that'll work."

The aching is still there as he follows her downstairs and into their apartment. He leans up against the door as she gets the dog; exhausted, a little broken, but recovering. He's seen her do it for years now, watched as the darkness faded from her eyes, when she took the first steps toward being okay. He can still hear the way she sounded when she proposed earlier, a repetitive splinter slicing up her words.

_Soon, _he wants to tell her, but refrains.

She's standing in front of him with Justice, leash wrapped around her hand. "Ready?"

"Yeah," he responds. "Let's go."


	9. Chapter 9

_a/n: _This is the last chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed. Hope you enjoy!

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><p>ix. October, 2013<p>

The cork pops on the second bottle of champagne; a quiet victory in the darkened night.

Kate holds out her glass, the amber liquid filling to the top. The bubbles fizz, and she takes a sip, the alcohol sliding down her throat, settling warm and low in her stomach. It's her fourth glass, maybe her fifth, but she's not counting tonight; not when they're in the Hamptons away from the lights and bustling pace of Manhattan, celebrating.

She had been on her way home from work when he had called her, all out of breath and joy filling the line. The reception broke on every other word until all she could make out was _home exciting surprise _and when she had gotten to the loft, he told her to pack for a weekend away. She had rolled her eyes because he was still ridiculously boyish sometimes but she was grateful for the escape, for forty-eight uninterrupted hours with him. It was fifteen minutes into their drive - the dog sleeping soundly in the backseat of her sedan - that she had asked him what the news was. He had remained coy until he was nearly bouncing in his seat in excitement.

Nikki Heat. Three more books.

At least.

She was on him before they even made it through the door, stumbling. She figured _I'm proud of you_ lacked meaning after nearly five years and she needed him to know that she was, that it wasn't just three more books but another chapter of the life he had created for them, that they had waited so long for. They had at least made in to the living room couch before they were completely naked, his hands fisted in her hair, mouth branded to hers. He had tasted like coffee and some sort of sweet pastry despite the time and she rolled them onto the floor, moaning as he sank further inside of her until there was nothing but them, but the memories of who they were, who they had become. It was fast, searing, and as her orgasm hit hard and unyielding she had pressed her lips to his, whispering. _Thank you. I love you._

They had remained like that for minutes until Castle finally dragged her into the bedroom, two bottles of champagne in his hands, glasses to go with it and the tangled mass of their clothes. There had been toasts and horrible ideas for his next set of books, the cool fall breeze wafting in from the slightly open balcony doors. She's tipsy and happy and so fucking in love with him that sometimes she still wonders if it's real.

"I got it!" Castle says, putting down his glass. Her feet are in his lap as she leans back on her elbows, his fingers kneading deep as he massages her. "Nikki and Rook are having sex at Disneyland when-"

"Disneyland?" Kate lifts an eyebrow, laughter outlining each syllable of her words. "Is this _actually_ a Nikki and Rook thing or a place you want _us_to have sex?"

"Come on, Beckett, think about it. _It's a Small World After All_. I mean, do you think they invented that ride because people want to listen to that godawful song for six hours while you travel through countries that no one even _remembers _exists_."_

"I'm listening..."

Castle's eyes widen, his fingers stilling on her foot. "Are you actually considering this?"

"I'm considering listening to you." She shrugs a shoulder, grinning. "But I'm drunk."

"What else can I get you to do when you're drunk?"

"Castle, tell me the idea before I nix it all together."

"Okay! So, Disneyland-"

"Because Nikki and Rook always hang out at California theme parks?"

"Who said I was talking about Nikki and Rook?"

Kate takes another sip of her drink, laying back on the mattress. The shadows of the room dance over the ceiling, bouncing patterns that make the room spin. She closes her eyes and it feels so good right now, out of control, no barriers held. "Tell me about us at Disney."

"We take the week off," Castle answers, his hands abandoning her feet. The mattress shifts under his weight as he moves beside her, heads on the rear of the bed. His fingers lace through her hair and she sighs, listening to the smooth cadence of his words. "We stop in LA so I can do some work before we decide to head up north to Napa. On our way out of the city, you get this brilliant idea to stop at the happiest place on earth."

"We both know this would never be my idea."

He presses his lips to hers, soft, pliant, his leg sliding between hers. "We get there when it opens, three hours tops before we have to leave-"

"It takes three hours to wait in line for one ride."

"Beckett, please. I'm a best selling author and you're a cop. Between the two of us, we can manage to get to the front of the line without waiting." He brushes his finger over her cheek and she opens her eyes. He's staring at her, the reflection of the moon highlighted in his irises and she keeps her gaze locked on his, the smile never flitting from her lips. "We see _It's a Small World_ and despite how utterly _annoying_that song is, we decide to go on it. The ride is fairly empty, presumably because no parent wants to drag their kid on that first so they can be singing it all day. As soon as the music starts, we know it's a mistake. I won't shut up about it-"

"Naturally."

"And to distract me, you put your hand..." He inches their locked fingers down until it hits his upper thigh, "right here." His breathing hitches, as he continues. "People think you're in control, Beckett. They think you're about the rules, that you'll be daring in the job but not outside of it."

His mouth is on hers again and she nips at his lips, coasts her hands up so it's undoing the button of his pants. He's hard and wanting and she slides the pad of her thumb over the tip of him, as he groans into her mouth.

"Let me finish?" she breathes. He nods as her fingers massage him, base to tip, over and over again. It's slow, torturous. "We were on set for _Naked Heat_ the night before and you were in your element, in command, and it was so incredibly sexy watching you defend our story, knowing that you created this out of how much you _wanted _me even from the beginning." She squeezes him with light, teasing fingers and he's straining in her hand, desperate for her, for release.

"Kate," and it comes out like a whine, like oxygen is a privilege instead of a given.

She presses her lips to his neck, drags her teeth over his Adam's apple, up this ear. "Tell me when," she whispers. "There was no time for sex that night so by the time we get to Disney, I want you. I want you so badly, Castle. I make sure no one is around and I unbutton your jeans, slide my hand into your pants and it never fails to surprise me how much you want me sometimes, how hard you can get for me." He's riding her hand, pushing further into her touch as she pumps him faster; deep, long strokes. "I have five minutes. Five minutes to make you come before we get caught."

"Beckett," he grunts, tugging on her hair, and she knows he's close by the strain in his voice, the trembling spasms beginning in her palm. "_Fuck."_

He rolls over on top of her, lifting their hands above her head, fingers knotted together. He thrusts into her with reckless abandon and it's only seconds before he breaks. She gasps; he's so _warm_inside of her, filling all the spaces once left bare, and her head spins when he releases one of his hands, trailing it down her stomach until his thumb strokes her clit. She lifts her hips, arching up into him as he continues to work her. He's like a fucking magician and she wants more of him and more alcohol and more of this forever and ever.

She chants his name like it's sacred, fisting the comforter, and then she's breaking all around him, splintering into a million different pieces; spinning, dizzying, intoxicating.

He rolls off of her and she's flat on her back, catching her breath. "I think that might be a little too graphic for one of your novels."

"Would be great for the movie though," Castle says, grinning.

"Did you get into the porn industry without me knowing?"

"Now that you mention it-"

"Castle, I was kidding." Kate stretches and stands, walking to the dresser. She checks the battery on her iPod that's charging, presses play because there's something about listening to music out here when it's so quiet that she loves. She skips a couple of songs, deciding on Van Morrison, before opening a drawer to grab a pair of shorts. "Hey, have you ever wondered if someone wanted to _Misery _you?"

"Like you?"

"I wasn't as big of a fan as you like to think, Castle." She glides the shorts up her long, dark legs; the tan from the summer not yet lost. He's watching her, eyes dark and focused and she bites her lip, smiles, because she loves when he watches her like this, when she deliberately knows how to turn him on. "I'm sure there are a lot of people out there who would just love to hold Rick Castle hostage."

"Good thing my girlfriend's a cop. You'd find me, right, Beckett?"

"Oh I don't know. I guess it depends if you were on my nerves that day."

"I knew I should have made Ryan my muse. He'd find me."

"Probably wouldn't be as good in bed, though."

"He'd make me snuggle with honeymilk."

"You two would be very cute together."

Castle grins. "If things don't work out for us, I'll have to make my move." He takes the champagne off his night stand, drinking down half the contents. "Where did the question come from?"

Her eyes shimmer with amusement. "The champagne?"

"You can't be a mystery writer and not think about it. After I killed off Derrick I seriously considered moving to a remote island just to avoid pissed off fans. But then I wouldn't have met you."

"And we couldn't have that." Kate grabs a sweatshirt and heads toward the balcony. The view from the bedroom looks out onto the beach and she loves how in the night it's nothing but black. It smells of salt and fresh air, the sounds of the ocean crashing, peaceful. She closes the doors, enveloping the room in warmth. "Are you at all concerned that our usually hyperactive dog has been quiet for the past couple of hours?"

"We had a big day. We went to the park, played Frisbee with Ryan and Esposito-"

"You mean when they were supposedly stuck behind a highway accident for two hours this morning?"

"Um, I..."

"Don't even bother covering for them." She turns toward the hallway, a smooth whistle coming from her lips. "Justice. Come here, babe!"

The sound of paws trotting on the hardwood floors vibrates throughout their house as the black lab makes his way into the room. It takes her a second to see it and when she does she turns to Castle, eyebrow lifted, smirk evident on her lips.

"Castle, why is the dog wearing a Batman mask?"

"Because without it everyone would know his true identity."

Kate laughs, and it's loud, weightless, everything. She crouches onto the floor, framing the dog's face in her hands. "I'm sorry your daddy tortures you like that," she whispers, voice lilting. "But you are pretty cute with it on." She climbs up on the bed, the dog following as he rests his head in her lap. She runs her fingers over the smooth, black fur. "When did you even put that on him?"

Castle rubs his finger over the dog's nose, beaming. "When you were in the bathroom earlier. I got bored."

"I was in there for a minute."

"I know. I was bored."

She leans over, her spare hand bracing the back of his head, nails gently massaging his scalp. She can taste the champagne that still gleams on his lips when she kisses him, sweet and perfect.

"Beckett," he mutters against her mouth, "Batman is watching."

Her laughter is muffled as she covers the dog's eyes with her hand, pulling gently at Castle's bottom lip with her teeth. She thinks she can spend the rest of her life with him and it'll never be enough, not when his hands scorch her skin after all this time, when he still finds new ways to surprise her. She rests her forehead against his. Her hand falls from the dog's eyes and Justice is back with his head in her lap, and this is her life and it's nothing like what she expected and everything she had never let herself hope for.

"I'm starving," Kate murmurs. She moves away from him, back pressed against the pillows. "Is Joe's the only thing open this late into the year?"

"Oh! We can get that pizza, you know the one with anchovies and pine-"

"I'm begging you not to finish that sentence."

"You do know that anchovies are one of the main ingredients in Caesar dressing, right?"

"Thank you, Julia Child. There's a difference between dressing and having them sitting on my pizza."

"You never let me have fun with food."

"For good reason. I'm going to walk Justice." The dog's ears perk, and he sits up, tail wagging. He licks Kate's face and she laughs, all attention focused on him. "Yes I am. Oh, you're so cute, aren't you?" She turns to Castle. "Order whatever you want that doesn't involve oily fish."

"What about-"

"You might get your shot with Ryan really soon," Kate teases.

She steps off the bed, Justice following in excitement as he runs toward the front door. Kate grabs her shoes when the song changes. She smiles at the opening chords, the sweet soft melody of Van Morrison's _Into the Mystic_. It reminds her of growing up and her mother, summer vacations up at the cabin, the way the lake had been warm in the sun and chilling at night.

"I love this song," she says absentmindedly.

"Dance with me."

"Seriously?"

"Indulge me. Please."

He takes her hand and she's against the wall of his chest, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist, hands clasped together. She rests her head in the crook of his neck as his fingers slide gracefully over her spine, light and teasing and so so perfect. She closes her eyes, breathing him in. He smells like cologne and the salty air from the ocean, like memories of the past, hope for the future.

"How did you know?" Kate asks, and it's quiet, a lulling question against the music.

"Know what?"

"You wrote Nikki and Rook how we are now. How did you know that's who we'd become? You had such blind faith in us, Castle. In me."

His lips brush over the crown of her head. "It wasn't blind faith, Kate. I wanted to believe that if I put everything into Nikki you'd realize you were capable of just as much as her, of _more_." He moves his lips to her ear, whispering, chills forming across her skin. "You will always be so much more than I can ever find words for."

She sways against him, presses her lips against the pulse in his neck. There's so much she wants to say to him, but all that comes out is, "I love you."

"Kate." He rubs his knuckle over her cheek. "Look at me."

She leans back in his arms, stares up at him. There's so much written on his face that it takes her breath away. Castle slides his hand through her hair, lets it settle around the curve of her ear. He's quiet, staring, taking her in. "Marry me, Kate."

Her chest clenches just above her heart; scars aching, haze of intoxication clearing. The ends up of her lips quirk. She leans back further in his arms, his clasped hands securing her. "Is this what you call an extravagant Rick Castle proposal?"

He smiles at her sheepishly. "Yankee Stadium. Two days."

She lifts an eyebrow in confusion until it hits her. "You were going to propose during game seven of the World Series?"

"Seventh-inning stretch. Out on the field. I was going to have Swisher, Jeter and Teixeira hold up signs. It was gonna be so cool!"

Kate drags a finger over his bottom lip, tracing, memorizing. "So why now?"

"I realized that for once I didn't need the grand gesture. Of course if you say yes, I will still be going through with that one as well."

"Castle, no. No Yankee Stadium."

"You can't tell me that's not an awesome proposal! Is it because you're nervous in front of Swisher? Because-"

She cuts him off with a kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Yes."

"There's nothing to be nervous about. He's married and while you are incredibly-"

"Castle. I meant yes, I'll marry you."

He crushes her against him, and his mouth is on her, hands sliding through her hair and she's so overwhelmed that she can't breathe, but it's _good_ and _right _and she's grateful as hell that he turned her down last month because this is what she wanted. Tipsy and happy and simple. He loosens his grip around her as the song ends, dragging her back to the bed, pulling her down so her legs tangle with his.

"What would you have done if the series ended in game four? Or if the Yankees didn't make it in at all?"

"They're the Yankees, Kate. Have some pride in your team! And if it ended in game four, I would have done something else embarrassing. Don't ever doubt my abilities." He wiggles his eyebrows at her and she laughs at the innuendo.

"I never do." She can hear Justice in the hall getting restless, paws tapping. "The ring isn't outrageous?"

"It's so completely _not _outrageous that I'm going to get flack from everyone we know for not getting you a bigger diamond."

"Good." She kisses him and stands. "I'm going to walk the dog."

"Is that a yes? Can I propose to you again? You're going to love Jeter's sign!"

Kate slips into her shoes, the smile never leaving her lips. "You already got one yes tonight, Castle. Don't push your luck."

* * *

><p><em>finished<em>


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